


Gently Used

by bloodandcream



Series: The more the merrier [63]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Antique Shops, Assassins & Hitmen, Bikers, Bottom Dean, Domestic, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gardens & Gardening, Happy Ending, Humor, M/M, Mexican Standoff, Multi, Polyamory, Recreational Drug Use, Sam Has a Dog, Smut, Threats of Violence, Threesome - F/M/M, Threesome - M/M/M, minor Dean/Lisa, minor Meg/Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-09 18:17:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6917935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel was content with the life he and Cain had carved for themselves in West Jefferson, North Carolina, cradled in a valley of the Blue Ridge Mountains. They had a sprawling antique shop, that while it didn’t get much business throughout the year, it managed to keep itself going. He was happy with the creaky old house that they had on a hill, surrounded by forests, with the garden in the back. Perhaps he had grown complacent in his old age, but he wasn’t expecting bounty hunters - the Winchester brothers - to come looking for his husband. Much less Meg and Ruby, two old friends who had followed on their heels to warn that trouble was coming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Help Wanted

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so so much for the lovely art work that [Senna](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Wicker) made, I’m all stupid giggly over here for this, aahhhh, I’m crushing on your style so hard. And a huge thank you to the betas that helped whip this into shape, [Maya](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mayalaen), [Jackie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Isis_McGee), and [DC](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken). You've all been wonderful to work with and this wouldn't be what it is without you. <3

-

It was the birds that woke Castiel up early. There was a family of sparrows living in the big oak tree just outside the bedroom window. He liked to listen to them in the morning, and imagine that they were conversing happily amongst themselves about their plans for the day. Rolling onto his side, sinking into the dip of the old mattress, Castiel stretched his limbs like a lazy cat and pushed his feet out from underneath the blanket.  
  
Sunlight dappled the bedroom through the lace curtains swaying gently in the breeze, the window open to the warm summer air. Curling one arm under his pillow to fluff it, the other folded on top of the sheets in front of him, Castiel rubbed his thumb over the smooth gold metal ring on his left hand. It was a plain band, nicked a little from age. It still made him smile every morning to wake up and see it.  
  
Yawning and pressing his face to the pillow, rolling onto his stomach under the buttercup yellow patterned sheets, Castiel sighed and languidly rubbed his morning erection against the mattress while he listened to the birds.  
  
Almost seven years now; their anniversary was coming up in not quite a month. It had been a blissfully peaceful, quiet seven years. Although they weren’t legally married, they lived as such. The rings were more of a promise, one that they’d kept. They hadn’t even expected to make it to the one year mark. Yet here they were still, in this creaky old farmhouse with the garden for Castiel and a workshop in the barn for Cain, and it was still quiet.  
  
Well, except for the sound of footsteps treading up the stairs, padding down the hallway. Shifting onto his back, Castiel folded one arm under his head and reached the other under the sheets to stroke himself slowly, waiting. Sure enough, the footsteps turned towards the bedroom and Cain leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest.  
  
“Are you awake yet?”  
  
Castiel groaned, what his hand was doing under the sheet quite obvious. “I still have a few minutes before I have to be up.”  
  
Cain rolled his eyes and looked pointedly at the clock on the nightstand. It was six fifty-four and yes Castiel had six minutes before he absolutely had to be up, but what he wanted would take a little more than six minutes. Nonetheless, Cain obliged by stepping in to the room and crossing to their bed. He stood there, in soft brown sleep pants and a long sleeved beige shirt, simply watching Castiel as he shifted the sheets lower and scooted closer to the edge.  
  
Reaching out to snag the hem of Cain’s pants, Castiel tugged him down onto the bed. Cain folded one leg under himself and left the other hanging off the edge, arms bracketing Castiel’s face as he slid a hand under Cain’s shirt.  
  
“Good morning.”  
  
Cain smiled and bent forward for a kiss, bumping noses affectionately and kissing lightly while Castiel rubbed a hand up Cain’s back. Curling his fingers in the fabric, Castiel started tugging the shirt up, and Cain eventually sat up to pull it off. Nudging Castiel further onto the bed, Cain slid his pants down and let them pool on the floor as he crawled into bed and lay on his side.  
  
Castiel stretched along his side and pushed a foot between Cain’s ankles, rubbing up his calf. Laying a hand on the warm skin of his arm, Castiel traced the colorful patterns of tattoos down Cain’s arm and let his fingers wander lower to stroke his cock and bring him to hardness. Cain’s hands were calloused and fit nicely over Castiel’s body as they lightly dragged along his hip and cupped the swell of his backside, bringing him closer.  
  
Cain’s blue eyes were as bright as ever and the crow’s feet were steadily growing a little deeper. Castiel loved how much he smiled these days, how much he laughed. He had grown his hair long and his beard full, it was a good look for him. Even if it tickled when they kissed.  
  
Lazing in bed petting each other for a while, the sun was warm on his skin and the breeze gentle, Cain’s hands strong and knowing. Castiel knew the language of these hands, gentle on his hips pushing him to his back, sliding down his thighs as they parted to make space, Cain shifting to kneel between his legs. Reaching over to the night stand, Castiel tugged the drawer open and fetched the lube, squeezing a dollop in his palm while Cain distracted him nipping down his chest.  
  
Pushing the dry fingers of his clean hand through Cain’s hair, Castiel tugged him up and slid his other hand between them to slick his cock. Rubbing his thighs up Cain’s side, tangling his fingers in soft hair, Castiel guided him in as Cain pressed forward. Clutching his wet hand in the sheets and swiping off the excess, Castiel sighed and hitched his legs higher to clasp his ankles around Cain’s waist. Cain braced his forearms on the bed framing Castiel’s head and leant forward to kiss him deeper.  
  
The bitter taste of coffee was strong on his tongue, lips soft, mouth warm. They kissed open mouthed, breathing against each other as Cain eased in deep and lay against him, bodies flush. Humming contentedly against Cain’s mouth, Castiel squeezed his legs and rocked his hips up when the initial overwhelming stretch was more a pleasant ache. Hands clutching at Cain’s broad shoulders, bodies rolling together with the easy rhythm, Castiel sank into the mattress pliant and blissed.  
  
There was something about the sleepy warm comfort of sex first thing in the morning that was indulgent and lovely. To need to touch and to have the luxury to do so, unhurried and un-compromised. There was nothing to hide - no reason to, between the two of them - in this tucked-back farmhouse hidden in the forest of the mountains.  
  
The old bed squeaked and there was no one around for acres to hear Castiel’s sobbed cry when Cain knelt up to heft his hips higher and thrust in brutally hard. Uncrossing his legs from behind Cain’s back, Castiel lifted them up over his shoulders and Cain squeezed the soft skin just behind the knee to hold him still. Reaching his arms up behind his head, Castiel braced them on the headboard to push down onto it, Cain so perfectly focused on that sweet spot that had heat shivering up his spine that Castiel didn’t last long before the tension low in his belly unraveled with a juddering climax.  
  
Cain shifted Castiel’s legs to the side and curled over him, hips snapping erratically and Castiel reached up to push the hair off his face and watch when he came, mouth open and eyes rolling back as he shuddered. Loose limbed and still blearily sleepy, Castiel tugged Cain down on top of him. He knew Cain would already have showered for the morning, and would have to clean up again because Castiel was rubbing his come messily against Cain’s thick haired belly and chest, yet it amused him greatly to do so.  
  
Grumbling, Cain bit at his ear and rolled his hips, softening inside Castiel, relishing the warmth of lying together and catching their breath again.  
  
“Now you’re definitely going to be late, because I will need a second shower before you can have yours.”  
  
Castiel stroked his hands down the curve of Cain’s back, “It’s barely past seven, I’ll take a quick one.”  
  
Rolling to the side, Cain stretched on his back and Castiel heard his knees pop. “Nobody comes in to the shop early anyway,” he commented dryly.  
  
“Valid point.”  
  
“It’s still a bad habit.”  
  
Castiel shoved his hip and Cain snorted as he almost fell off the bed. “Then get to showering.”  
  
-  
  
Castiel skipped his shave seeing as he was running just a little late, and his stubble wasn’t too overgrown anyway. He could hear Cain puttering around in the kitchen downstairs when he made his way back to the bedroom to dress. The honey colored oak dresser set was one of Castiel’s favorite early finds, solid and well built, with gracefully curving detail work that resembled flowering vines. Pulling out jeans and a white button down, Castiel dressed and ran his fingers through his hair in lieu of a comb. He always kept his sleeves buttoned at the wrist, covering his own tattoos that were a reminder of a life they’d left behind.  
  
Shutting the window in case it rained, Castiel shuffled downstairs. His feet knew every groove and dip of the polished wood floors, his hand fit comfortably on the banister down the stairs. The kitchen at the back of the house was golden with sunlight coming in the east facing windows, pale blue curtains parted above the sink. The toaster popped just as Castiel was settling at the table to a waiting cup of coffee.  
  
Cain hummed when he cooked; a quiet deep rumble. Castiel had always found it soothing. Their kitchen table was a beaten up thing, covered with scratches and stains from a hard life. The fine porcelain butter tray and delicate coffee cups with gold rims and rose patterns were perhaps a bit fancy for the table, but Cain had picked them out.  
  
Hooking one leg on the chair’s cross bar, Castiel leaned back and sipped his sweet coffee while he watched Cain finish breakfast. Shortly, a plate piled with scrambled eggs and toast was set in front of him, Cain sitting across him at the table with his own plate.  
  
Shaking salt and pepper on his eggs, Cain remarked, “I still think we should hire Jack.”  
  
Castiel crunched a bite of toast, pretending to mull it over. “I really don’t think he’d be a good fit, he’s a bit scrawny.”  
  
“He has a good work ethic.”  
  
“Let’s keep the sign up for one more week.”  
  
Cain grunted and dug in to his eggs. Their last part time employee at the antique shop that they owned had quit at the start of summer. Which was fine, summer wasn’t usually too busy. But with autumn coming up quickly, business would pick up with tourists coming down the Blue Ridge Parkway to catch the leaves changing colors. Not to mention that Cain had problems with his back and Castiel’s knees were going bad. They needed someone young and strong to help move heavier items. Jack was the best candidate so far, but Castiel wasn’t too confident that he was the right pick. They could wait a little longer to make the decision.  
  
When Castiel finished breakfast, he refilled his own coffee and Cain’s. Gathering the dishes, he filled the sink with warm water and washed up after breakfast while Cain read the paper at the table. When everything was tidied, he took his half empty coffee back to the table and sat down to finish.  
  
“The sale at the Turner estate is this Saturday,” he reminded Cain.  
  
Folding the paper neatly, Cain set it on the corner of the table and picked up his coffee to finish. “Mm. No more housewares, we are over brimming with dish sets.”  
  
“I know. I’ll keep a look out for anything unique. Oh, and tools?”  
  
“Functional and vintage, yes. Those always sell fast.”  
  
There was one more cup of coffee each left in the pot. They sipped their last cup and Cain talked about what he’d read in the newspaper, while Castiel reminded him not to forget eggs when they went grocery shopping later. They plotted out the day quietly together until eight o’clock came and it was time to head into town to open up the shop.  
  
-  
  
Valley View Antiques sat on the periphery of the town center in West Jefferson, North Carolina, cradled in a picturesque valley of the Blue Ridge Mountains. The store had started as the end unit of a three unit strip mall, but as the other businesses failed they had acquired the other two units and slowly expanded their store into the stretch of shops, opening doorways up in between sections.  
  
The building was unremarkable, standard white painted exterior and large display windows along the front. But on the side, Castiel had hired unknown talent to paint a mural of the area’s local flora and fauna. It might be a little touristy, but tourists did make up a bulk of their revenue. There were forests behind the shop, and across the street was a coffee shop and a laundromat. To one side sloped undeveloped fields, and to the other a liquor store.  
  
Inside, the aisles weaving between shelves and tagged furniture were narrow, the wooden floor well-worn and scuffed. Castiel had wrangled the shop into some semblance of organization, one unit with mostly furniture, one unit with mostly household goods, and one unit with all the other odds and ends. Cain liked to keep the books and inventory straight, while Castiel dealt more with customers and keeping up the appearance of the shop. They worked well together.  
  
In reality, the shop didn’t bring in enough for them to support themselves. They had ample savings to live comfortably off without even running the shop. But, it was good to keep up appearances and to keep themselves busy. In a small town like this, tongues were always wagging and the identity that they’d made for themselves as married antique shop owners was one that had been slowly, but eventually, accepted.  
  
And so they were tucked away in the shadow of the mountains in a wholly unremarkable life.  
   
-  
  
Flipping the sign on the front door to ‘Open,’ Castiel shuffled back through the shop and dusted absent mindedly as he went. Propping the back door open, he whistled and waited for a minute until the scrappy black cat trotted over from the forest line.  
  
“Good morning, Luna.”  
  
Turning back into the shop, the cat followed on his heels with a quiet chirrup in greeting that was almost a meow. Together, they weaved through the meandering aisles of the miscellany unit, heading into the middle unit towards the employee section in the back. Castiel liked to run his fingers over the smooth wood edges of the shelves, the aisles so narrow in places only one person could fit.  
  
There were so many beautiful things in the store, delicate glass and pottery, old near-crumbling books, tarnished pieces of jewelry that still shone with character, and the vases. Castiel loved the section of vases. Of course there were pieces that weren’t to his taste, but he gathered anything of value to sell in the store. Beauty was entirely in the eye of the beholder. Although he almost treated the store as his own place to collect pieces he loved, he was technically supposed to be selling all of it.  
  
It wasn’t his fault that Cain reprimanded him for cluttering up their house; with the blue glass pieces lining the windowsills, unique painted tea cups along the fireplace mantle, pillars of books lining rooms when they overflowed the book shelves. Perhaps the shop had started as a way for them to keep busy, but also because Castiel loved finding and collecting strange old things. He did, however, find that he loved to share these things. The look in a customer’s eyes when they alighted upon something they’d been looking for or that caught them unawares, it was rewarding.  
  
Past the rows of dish sets in the housewares section, there was a door to the back area that was employees only. The walls were papered with a floral pattern that was curling in the corners, a cork board for the schedule and including all the requisite safety and work place rights information directly to the left. Through the first door on the right, Cain was hunched over a battered wood desk poring over receipts. Down a little further was the break room. Past that, several doors led to storage areas.  
  
Luna trotted ahead of Castiel and hopped up on the counter in anticipation as he turned into the break room. A row of cabinets with an old fridge that didn’t keep much cold to one side, a sink in the middle, and a microwave that had seen better days to the right, all sat at the far side of the modest break room. Castiel picked a can of tuna out of the cupboard and a low bowl with a blue stripe around the edge. He emptied the entire can, with the juices and all, into the bowl. Luna meowed loudly now, unapologetically demanding.  
  
“There you go.”  
  
Setting the bowl on the beige checkered linoleum floor, Castiel turned back to the counters to start a pot of coffee. Luna ate noisily hunched over her food. She wasn’t necessarily their cat, she was more-so the shop cat. She had been around the parking lot when they acquired the first unit to start their shop, and Castiel had found her inside hunting mice one day and decided to invite her back. The cat was a bit of a fixture by now, the few regulars that they had always headed to the basket on the counter first to check if Luna was there to say ‘hi.’  
  
She was a sweet cat, well-tempered and affectionate. Castiel enjoyed her company. He even caught her in Cain’s lap sometimes, in the cramped office running over inventory together.  
  
Castiel had just flicked on the coffee pot when he heard the chime of the bell at the front of the store. They didn’t usually get customers so early. Leaving Luna to her meal, he wandered into the shop to say ‘hello’ and offer assistance.  
  
-  
  
Cain was right. They should be hiring new help sooner, rather than later. Castiel had been kept busy for most of the day with customers wandering through. A large craftsman armoire got a ‘Sold’ ticket on it and was scheduled for delivery on Sunday. They’d certainly need help moving that, Castiel didn’t want Cain to risk throwing out his back. Maybe Jack would have to do. He’d pick up more muscle after a few weeks work, in any case.  
  
Refolding a stack of patchwork quilts a customer had left rumpled, Castiel heard the bell at the door yet again and tossed an “I’ll be with you in a minute,” over his shoulder.  
  
Arranging the quilts on the trunk nicely again, he passed Cain down one aisle explaining how to care for a tool to a customer. At the front of the shop, two tall men stood looking around just inside the door. One, with shoulder length brown hair and his hands stuffed in his pockets, hunched over to read an antique tin for dietary biscuits. The other, with bright green eyes and an easy smile, who saw Castiel approach and waved him over.  
  
“You work here?”  
  
Nodding politely, Castiel answered, “Yes, can I help you find something?”  
  
The tall one stood up straight and smiled, cheeks dimpling under kind eyes.  
  
The other waved behind him at the front door, where the ‘Help Wanted’ sign hung above the hours sign. “What sort of help are you looking for?”  
  
“Ah, please follow me.”  
  
Waving them in to the store so they didn’t block the front door, Castiel led them to the checkout island with a large square counter that held display cases on three sides and the register on the front. Shuffling underneath the desk, he pulled out a stack of applications and slid them across the counter.  
  
“We’re looking for someone to work in the store part time helping to stock and clean, but mostly what we need is someone to move the heavier items, help with home deliveries for customers and also traveling to move new acquisitions to the store.”  
  
Castiel wasn’t sure if the both of them were looking for a job, because they only had one opening, but they did look more than strong enough for the position.  
  
The shorter one smiled as the other read the application carefully.  
  
“Doesn’t sound too bad. I’m Dean by the way, this is Sam. What’s your name?”  
  
Dean offered his hand over the counter and Castiel accepted the firm handshake.  
  
“Castiel. I own this shop with my partner, Cain. I believe he’s helping a customer now, but he would also want to interview you for the position. Which of you is thinking of applying?”  
  
Sam looked up, still with a warm smile, “Actually, we were both looking for a job. We’re new to the area, doesn’t look to be a lot of businesses around here.”  
  
Shaking his head, Castiel considered the two of them. “No, we’re a pretty small town. May I ask why you’ve recently moved here?”  
  
Dean shrugged, leaning against the counter casually as he pulled a pencil out of the small ceramic vase by the register and started filling out one of the applications. “My brother and I are just moving around looking for work. You know how it’s been lately. “  
  
“I do, a lot of people have been moving out of West Jefferson, South to Ashville.”  
  
Sam accepted the pencil Dean passed to him and bent over his own application. “What sort of hours are you looking to hire for?”  
  
“I can set steady afternoon hours in the shop during the week, we can work with you on those, but during the weekend I will need flexible availability for the heavy lifting on deliveries.”  
  
Nodding along, Dean tapped his pencil on the application. “That’s not a problem. We can give you references and a phone number, but we don’t have an address right now, is that all right?”  
  
“Are you staying somewhere in town temporarily?”  
  
“We’re just at the Pine Ridge Inn for now.”  
  
Leaning over to a small display of pamphlet information for local sights and attractions, Castiel pulled out a leaflet for the Creekside Motel, “They give rates on a weekly basis if you’re planning on settling for a while.”  
  
Dean folded and tucked it into his pocket, flashing a charming smile,“Thanks.”  
  
Sam finished a section of his application and looked up. “If you’re only hiring for one position here, do you know anywhere else in town that’s hiring?”  
  
“I don’t, but let me have a look at your applications and talk to Cain. Traffic will be picking up soon, we might be able to hire you both but it wouldn’t be for full hours.”  
  
Dean passed his application back over, “Sure, thanks. Me and my brother can be ready to work any time you need us.”  
  
Castiel accepted their applications back, but they lingered at the counter.  
  
Dean tapped his fingers on the wood, eyes flicking over the tourist pamphlets. “So uh, how long have you had this shop?”  
  
Ah, giving more information in regards to the position might be helpful. He liked these two already, although he’d have to look into their backgrounds. “About six years now. When we opened, it was just one of these units, but we’ve expanded to the whole strip a little over a year ago. My husband doesn’t like to admit it, but his back isn’t doing well and he shouldn’t be lifting heavy items. And my knees have been getting worse. We need some young blood around here.”  
  
Sam nodded and pushed a strand of hair behind his ear, “We can definitely put in a hard day’s work.”  
  
“Good, we’ll look over these applications and give you a call.”  
  
Dean waved when he stepped away from the counter, “Thanks, man.”  
  
-  
  
Weaving through the store, Castiel listened for Cain and poked his head down a few aisles. He didn’t see any customers around the store, so he headed for the back room with the applications. Around the corner, Luna hopped off a shelf and trotted up to press against his legs.  
  
“Did you see them, Luna? Cats have good judgment, don’t they?”  
  
The cat meowed loudly, so Castiel bent to scratch her on the head before moving on towards the back room again. “I liked them. They seem like good men, calloused hands, simple clothes, friendly smiles, good hand shake. I’m a little worried that they’re not local though. Any thoughts?”  
  
The cat padded ahead of him towards the kitchen. Good idea.  
  
Castiel cleaned the tuna bowl from that morning and set it down with water, Luna whapping her tail agitatedly that it was not more tuna before deigning to take a drink. The coffee was probably stale, but the pot was still half full so Castiel prepared two mugs and heated them in the microwave for a minute before tucking the applications under his arm and taking everything to the office.  
  
Cain was tapping a pencil against the desk next to a thick folder of receipts.  
  
Castiel set the coffee down before sitting on the hard wood chair across the desk.  
  
“I just had two men stop in to inquire about the job opening.”  
  
Looking up from the desk, Cain took off the thick black framed glasses he needed for reading and picked up the cup of coffee first. Humming at the first sip, he set it down to reach for the applications, eyes flicking over the pages.  
  
“And what did you think of them?”  
  
“They look fit for the job. There’s two, brothers, Sam and Dean Smith. I told them we had one position open but we might consider hiring them both part time.”  
  
“They’re not from around here.”  
  
“No.”  
  
Leaning back in his chair, Castiel folded on leg over the other and sipped his coffee. Luna wandered in to hop on Cain’s lap. He pet her absently as he reviewed the applications.  
  
“Work history is spotty. Do they move around a lot?”  
  
“It seems like.”  
  
“Hm.”  
  
“Why don’t you call their references and let me know what you think? If they check out, we can call them in for an interview.”  
  
Cain hummed in agreement, reading over the applications as he sipped his coffee. Castiel left him there in peace and found the broom to sweep the shop between serving customers. It was a surprisingly eventful day. By close, he decided to take down the ‘Help Wanted’ sign. Either Cain would find the Smiths hirable, or they’d have to go with Jack.


	2. The Case

Dean flipped his cell closed and tucked it back into his jeans pocket. Getting up from his sprawl on top of the surprisingly comfy motel bed, he padded to the kitchenette to get two beers out of the mini fridge.

“Just got off the phone with Bobby, gave him the heads up that he’s a reference for our applications. That makes him, Garth, and Ellen to back up our covers.”

Sam was rifling through a few manila folders of paperwork on the wobbly Formica table. As soon as Dean popped the caps on the beer, Sam held out his hand for one. Sitting down opposite him, Dean stretched his legs under the table - or at least tried to until he bumped up against Sam’s freakishly long legs. Pulling an un-open folder towards him, Dean flipped it open and started sifting.

“You sure it’s one of them?”

Sam answered still looking at his papers, “Pretty sure. I think it might be Cain, but I need to get a closer look at him.”

“I don’t know man, something about Castiel struck me as off.”

“Yeah. He kind of looks similar to the photos, but honestly they’re too grainy to really get a good visual. We’ll have to do some more digging into these guys, but they showed up here together several months after the incident.”

“Huh. So if one of them is our guy, then where did the other one come from?”

“Maybe picked up along the way? Maybe he has connections back to the gang?”

“Yeah, too many maybes. I don’t like it.”

Reaching across the table, Dean slid the best photo of their target that they had over. Sipping on his cold beer, he frowned at the poor image quality. Seven years ago and it was amazing how crappy the technology had been. Sure some things about the rapidly increasing presence of cameras everywhere kind of creeped Dean out, but he had to admit it made their job a lot easier.

Even back then, you couldn’t completely avoid getting your face caught somewhere, but damn were these guys good at keeping a low profile.

“So this guy, the Knight, how long did he work for Lucifer?”

Sam hummed and flicked through a few pages. “Not sure. He goes way back though. He was Lucifer’s right hand man, there was a lot of trust there. I don’t know why he would turn against his own guys and then disappear. But there’s a lot about that night that doesn’t make sense.”

“Yeah, the Krushnics had a similar kind of in-house dispute that ended in a lot of bodies down, too, didn’t they?”

“Yep,” Sam picked another folder out of a stack and slid it over to Dean. “That was when their one guy, Jimmy I think was his alias, earned himself the title ‘Angel of Thursday’. It was a bloodbath.”

Sighing, Dean pinched the bridge of his nose and flipped through information on the Krushnics - ones who had been outed or arrested, known associates, their clients. There was way too much speculation about them for Dean’s liking.

“This Jimmy guy wasn’t even too big in the family was he?”

“I don’t know, he was some kind of hit man but he didn’t seem too popular with his family. Had a cover as an ad salesman.”

“Right. Okay. Let’s back up.”

Sam looked up from his work and stretched, leaning back in his chair to finish the beer. Slow traffic hummed outside on the main freeway that led into West Jefferson. Even with the faded red curtains pulled, it was bright inside the small room.

Dean couldn’t make sense of the mess on the table. “So the Krushnic family smuggles weapons. They’ve been in the business for generations, tight knit group, everyone has aliases with different last names and they spread out like fucking cockroaches.”

Sam snorted, “Yeah, it’s a big family. They have people in politics, doctors, lawyers, cops, and completely unassuming positions like accounting work, I think one guy that was arrested was working in a fast food restaurant.”

“Uh-huh. And they’ve mostly run their shit off radar for probably longer than anyone knows. Then Lucifer, he decides he has a bone to pick with his family and just fucking leaves to start his own gang.”

“The Damned. Yeah, guy takes himself too seriously.”

“And they squabble for a few decades, Lucifer starts running weapons, drugs, sex trafficking, pretty much everything illegal, he’s got a finger in it.”

Sam nodded along, “He was airing out a lot of the Krushnic’s dirty secrets on how they operate, trying to expose the family, not a good move.”

“But it goes on like that for a long time, no one can catch Lucifer or the Krushnic’s head guy, Michael. And no one even knew his name until he got arrested last year -"

“- with Lucifer -"

“- right, but that was a little while after our incident. It just came out of the blue didn’t it?”

“From what I can tell, neither side was really expecting it.”

“So, this Knight guy, Father of Murder or whatever - seriously, who makes up these names - he turned and killed seventeen of Lucifer’s men then went off the map. We sure he’s not dead?”

“Why would we be hired to find him if they knew he was dead?”

“Yeah, yeah. But that same night, this ‘Jimmy Novak’ took out fourteen Krushnics and blew up some warehouse of theirs that was a big loss for the family. He was assumed dead though.”

“No one knows his real identity, they couldn’t match anything so that’s a pretty big question mark right there. A lot of the bodies they found couldn’t be confirmed.”

Dean rolled his eyes and pushed a stack of papers away, swiping his hand over his face. “And then each side blames the other for what happened and shit gets real bad real fast. They fuck things up for everyone for a few years until Mike and Luci manage to get themselves arrested, which is suspected to have been an inside deal from Luci’s side, one of his guys hungry to grab the power for themselves.”

“Which leads to a whole lot of infighting with The Damned, while the Krushnics stay even keeled, no one’s sure what’s going on with them. But the up and comers for The Damned are Crowley and Abaddon.”

“Who want to tie up loose ends.”

“And here we are.”

Groaning, Dean rubbed his forehead. “This is a mess.”

Sam bitch faced at his papers. “Tell me about it.”

“Lucifer still has loyalists from behind bars though, right?”

“Definitely. Michael’s death doesn’t seem to have hit the Krushnic’s too hard but it’s difficult to say.”

“Dude got stabbed in the shower with a filed down toothbrush fifty-two times and his eyes gouged out. That is brutal.”

“Lucifer’s men do not mess around. He’s got loyalists in prison still, he’s gotta have some on the outside too.”

Pushing himself up, Dean swiped both empty beer bottles off the table and left Sam to his intel. Dropping the empties in the trash, Dean rummaged through a plastic grocery bag on the counter and pulled out a pack of jerky. He paced the room as he munched. Sam pulled out his laptop and started tapping away.

“Any news from Charlie? She dig up some better intel for us?”

Sam hummed and clicked around, “Uh, no … doesn’t look like it. I don’t know if I like this, Dean. Doesn’t it seem kind of above our pay grade?”

Dean shrugged it off, “Gotta make a living somehow.”

They lapsed into silence, Sam running over the information he had in front of him and Dean running through his mental lists. Outside, someone was pulling up in the parking lot. The A/C unit below the window hummed with an occasional but predictable rattle. Sam’s clacking was rhythmic and Dean set his pacing to it, socked feet on short rough carpet. They hadn’t switched to the motel that Castiel suggested, but they weren’t staying where they said they were either. They’d picked out a place outside of West Jefferson that was pretty run down, but serviceable.

Finishing his snack, Dean tossed the bag and dropped heavily onto his bed, rubbing a hand over his face. Sam’s chair squeaked when he pushed away from the table, crossing one leg over his lap and tapping his thigh.

Dean craned his neck to the side to see Sam giving him the beginnings of a bitch face. “What?”

“Dude, I can’t believe you actually thought putting in applications was a good idea.”

“Well we’re not really sure if Cain is our guy. This is a good in for us.”

“Yeah maybe, but getting separated when we’re not sure who’s who isn’t a really smart move.”

“Castiel said they might hire both of us.”

“Probably not to work the same shifts.”

“Oh yeah.” Dean waved him off, “Don’t worry about it, it’ll be fine.”

“And what are we going to do if we don’t get the jobs? Just suspiciously hang around the shop?”

“Ah come on Sammy, we got the Winchester charm, we’ll totally get in.”

-

Metallica played softly as Dean wound through the curving mountain roads of West Jefferson. Windows rolled down, Sam’s long hair flapping in the breeze, sun warm on his forearms. It was a pretty nice area around here. Farms peppered the valleys between steep mountain ridges, houses settling closer and closer as they got towards town, a small developed business area with all the necessities was the center and on the fringe of it sat the antique shop.

Pulling in to the parking lot that definitely needed work, cracked asphalt littered with poorly patched pot holes, Dean parked to the side and smiled smugly over at Sam.

“I told you they’d call.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Whatever, jerk.”

Strolling through the front door, little bell chiming as they entered, Dean wandered around and checked out the weird knick knack kitsch and rows of vases that lined the first few shelves past the door. He heard Castiel call from somewhere deeper in the store, “Be there in a minute.”

Sam was squatted down looking at something in the display case by the checkout counter when tousled dark hair rounded the corner and Dean waved at Castiel. He looked tame enough, button down shirt and blue tie, a nice smile and bight blue eyes. But there was something about him that didn’t quite mesh with ‘harmless antique store owner’. Something that felt a little cold, a little hard. There was something recognizable in him, the way he held himself, and Dean was pretty sure if their mark was here then Castiel had something to do with the whole mess too.

“Hey, Cas, we’re here for the interview. Are we doing it separate?”

Castiel came forward and shook his hand. “No, I’ll take you back together. Cain just wants to run over a few things. We’re not very strict employers, but he likes to keep things in order. Hello, Sam.”

Sam smiled and shook his hand, “Hello, Castiel. I appreciate the quick call back.”

Castiel turned to lead them back through the rows of overflowing shelves, “Well, our only employee at the moment is quitting next week and I’m going out this weekend to some sales, so hiring sooner rather than later is ideal.”

“Sure, yeah.”

Dean saw a black cat sitting on top of one of the shelves and nearly toppled over a stand when he startled. “Dude, there’s a cat up there.”

Castiel glanced back and squinted. “Oh that’s just Luna. She’s the store cat. Neither of you are allergic, are you?”

Dean shuddered but Sam answered, “No, it’s fine.”

“Good.”

Being led back into an employee section, Castiel waved them both into a cramped office where an older man sat frowning at a stack of papers.

“Cain, the Smiths are here.”

Dean waved and took a seat, folding his hands in his lap as Sam sat down next to him.

“Hey, thanks for the interview.”

Cain took a thick black framed pair of glasses off and stared at him. Dude was stern. Salt and pepper hair was pulled back in a ponytail and his bushy beard hid half of his face.

“Hello, Dean, is it?”

“Yeah, hi,” leaning over the desk, Dean shook his hand.

Sam offered his hand next, “I’m Sam.”

“All right. Well your references check out. First question I have for you, why exactly do you want a job here?”

Sam had on his charming gentle giant face as he sat low in his chair and smiled widely, “We saw the sign at the front of the shop and both agreed this was a pretty nice town so we just, thought to stop in. Honestly, it was kind of a whim, but we’re hard workers and we’re dependable. We’d like to find somewhere we can work, settle down.”

Humming, Cain just watched the two of them. Castiel lingered by the doorway for a minute before turning and striding back down the hall to the shop, the cat following after him.

Cain stared at the two of them, quiet, eyes narrowed and shifting back and forth. It was a little unsettling. Dean looked around the office, tall metal filing cabinets lining the wall behind the desk, with baskets and folders neatly piled on top of them. There were two high windows set in the wall to the left, bare and cracked open.

Tapping on the resumes he had sitting out on the desk, Cain finally asked another question, “Tell me Dean, what do you hope to get out of employment here, other than just a paycheck.”

“I uh, guess I never really saw myself working around antiques but you’ve got a pretty awesome shop here. If you’re just looking for muscle, we’re definitely your guys, but I’m good with detail work too, I’ve got a good memory for inventory.”

Cain nodded and shifted his attention to Sam. “Both of your work histories are erratic, several months on a job and long periods in between. Your past employers give glowing reviews though. Why haven’t you … settled down anywhere else?”

Sam had his ‘puppy game’ face on full force, dimples and all. “Youth, I guess, might be the answer. We’ve always traveled around a lot, just seeing what’s out there.”

Cain didn’t seem too impressed, hands folded over the applications and still looking between the two of them with vague disapproval. But then, “We can’t offer benefits, hours will be between twenty five to thirty five hours a week, we’ll give you more hours when business picks up with the tourist season. We’d have to cut them during winter, though.”

Dean smiled widely, “Hey, you’d be doing us a solid man. We can work with that.”

“All right. Employment is ‘at will’. I have some paperwork for you to fill out, are you free the rest of the day?”

-

So this case wasn’t a clear cut, in and out kind of thing. There was normally a lot of research involved, but him and Sam, they could usually wrap up a job in a couple of days to a week. This one was going to take a little time. They still needed to confirm their goddam target.

Sam wasn’t too happy that they were taking a contract from someone that should probably be hit themselves, but everything had gotten kind of tangled lately. Dean figured that as long as they were still going after bad guys, then it was good over all. Right. Something like that.

Sometimes, he felt like they’d sold themselves to the devil to get Azazel. Dean and Sam had done everything they could to find him - that one was personal. Azazel was one tough son of a bitch to find, and it had taken working more closely than Dean liked with this Crowley guy who was apparently happy to sell his own people out. Or at least, they should have been on the same side. Dean wasn’t too sure what was going on with the inner workings of their gang - especially after Lucifer had gotten himself locked up - but it was ugly and they were all turning on each other.

So this guy, this Knight, they were pretty sure Cain was their man but pretty sure didn’t cut it and Dean had a feeling that his partner Castiel was more involved in all of it than he was led to believe.

They’d be in town for a while.

Dean kind of liked it though. It was a small town, one of those close knit communities where neighbors knew each other. The mountains were always in sight, rising steeply on the edges of the town, and the roads were tough on Baby but it was nice. Sometimes, when they settled down for a few weeks or more on a case - or in between cases - he kind of liked feeling…. settled. After only a week, the grocers at the only super market in town had his name memorized and talked to him like he’d always lived there.

There weren’t a whole lot of business in the town proper, mostly just on the stretch of main street. They went to the same coffee place in the morning, the same few diners every other night, Sam loved the small library that apparently had free yoga classes every Tuesday and Thursday out in the grassy field behind it.

Dean preferred waking up early like this, cocooned under the warmth of a massive comforter with a pretty waitress in his arms. Lisa, with her dark brown eyes and soft skin. She was a real peach, gave Dean the biggest slice of pie from the glass display under the front counter of the diner and it was history from there. She was real bendy too, probably went to that yoga thing at the library.

Would explain why she always got up so damn early. It was only six o’clock when Dean woke to her small hands rubbing a circle over his chest, bright eyed and awake as she looked at him, and Dean was still bleary from sleep.

“What time s’it?”

“Six.”

“You got an early shift at the diner?”

“No. Don’t have to be there until later evening.”

“Huh.”

“Mhmm.”

Her hand trailed lower, Dean’s dick bouncing up to meet it.

Her voice was a little rough in the morning, low and sweet, Dean liked it. “Are you working at the shop today?”

Curling onto his side to loop an arm over her slender waist, Dean pulled her closer. “Nope, me and Sam only work together on the weekends, we switch off during the week. Sam’s in today so I am all yours until you have to go.”

Lisa hummed and tilted forward to kiss him - close lipped - as Dean pushed a thigh between hers. “I was thinking, if you want to do anything other than holing up in here, have you explored much down the Parkway? It’s beautiful, we could go for a hike, look at the sights.”

Smoothing his hand down her firm ass, Dean nuzzled into the crook of her shoulder, “Lis, you know I won’t be staying around long?”

“Yeah, that’s why you’ve got to see everything that’s good while you can.”

“Then I think we should stay right here and I’ll look my fill.”

Lisa laughed, and he couldn’t blame her, that one was pretty terrible. Dean took her moment of distraction to flip the blankets up and push her onto her back. Dark hair fanning around her head on white sheets, dusky nipples peaked and her long legs just parted for Dean so he could make a space for himself between them, neat trimmed curls at the top of her pussy and her curves could make a grown man cry.

Damn, but West Jefferson did have great sights.

-

Dean was a damn good mood the next day he went back to work.

The only thing Dean didn’t like about working at the antique shop was the damn cat. If it wasn’t with Cas, it seemed to be following Dean around. It was as if the things could sense when you didn’t like them and would then stick around just to spite you. Currently, the black cat was curled in it’s basket on the front counter while Dean rung up a customer buying a dish set and a few odd pots. The cat swished its tail lazily and the old lady buying dishes cooed at it and scratched under its chin.

Dean had boxed up the lady’s purchase with some newspaper shoved between pieces to keep them from breaking. Hefting it onto the counter, he asked, “Do you want help carrying this out?”

The old lady smiled and carefully picked up the box, “Oh, I’ve got it, but thank you. You have a good day now dear.”

“You too, ma’am.”

As soon as she was out the door, Dean buried his face in the crook of his arm and sneezed violently. He glared at the cat in the basket, daring it to follow him when he made his way down the housewares aisle. There were a few open spots now he could fill with some of the stock from the back. The damn cat was weaving between his legs, no doubt in a nefarious plot to trip him.

Passing the office in the back corridor, Dean saw Cas hunched over the big wooden desk in there with jewelry carefully scattered in front of him, a laptop off to the side, and one of those fancy headpieces that had magnifying lenses and lights on it. Dean rapped his knuckles on the wooden frame of the door, and Cas looked up blinking owlishly when Dean asked, “Hey, I’m putting on a pot of coffee, you want some?”

Cas squinted, hands holding a delicate piece of jewelry and a tweezer, before nodding once, “Yes please, one spoon of sugar.”

Dean rapped his knuckles against the door frame again before leaving, the damn cat still trailing after him. Stopping in the kitchenette break room, he filled the ancient coffee pot with grinds and water while the cat jumped on the counter to stare at him.

“That’s just unsanitary. Isn’t Cas supposed to be your favorite?”

Leaving the coffee to brew, he found his way to the back storage area to rummage for dish sets. Dean hadn’t seen Cain around the shop today, but the two of them weren’t always working together. Perks of owning your own place, probably. It was pretty slow business, but Cas had said that it picked up in the fall with people coming down through the Parkway to watch the leaves change.

Sounded like a fucking boring vacation. Watching leaves. Huh.

Re-organizing the shelves with new stock, Dean kept an ear out for the bell over the front door or the one on the counter. He didn’t hear anyone rummaging around through the shop. When he was done with the re-stock, he made his way back to the kitchen for coffee. There was that godawful powdered creamer in the cupboard, but no fresh milk. He still took his with creamer and sugar, just a spoon of sugar for Cas.

Taking the mugs back to the office, Dean set Cas’ down on a bare patch of desk. There were trays of small gems and clasps and extra lengths of chain that he was working on repairing pieces of jewelry with.

Dean decided to park his butt in the chair across the desk, sip his coffee and watch Cas work. The cat decided his lap was a good place to sit and jumped on him, head butting his chest and nearly making his coffee spill.

“Christ, I swear cats just know when you don’t like them, fucking assholes.”

Across from him, Cas was still focused on his worked. He mumbled, “Takes one to know one.”

Dean almost missed it, sputtering, “What, you didn’t, did you just….. you’re the asshole, asshole.”

Yeah, good one Dean.

Cas smirked and set down what he was working on, picking up his coffee and taking a sip as he pushed his chair back from the desk a little. Clucking his tongue, the cat jumped off Dean and happily made its way over to Cas, where it had a warm welcome and chin scratches.

Cas hummed against the rim of his mug, “Thank you for the coffee, Dean.”

“Yeah, sure.” Leaning over the desk he studied the varied jewelry pieces. “So what’re you doing here? Patching things up?”

“Something like that. I’m researching to check if we have any pieces of value, and repairing what I can. We generally don’t acquire much high end jewelry.”

“Huh. Looks kind of neat though.”

“I’m a firm believer in giving old things a second chance.”

Dean smiled at him, “Well that’s why you’re running an antique shop.”

He could appreciate the sentimentality of old things. He still wore his dad’s worn leather jacket, couldn’t even count all the parts he’d replaced in the Impala, kept his stash of old cassette records. There wasn’t nothing wrong with things that were old, if they still worked good.

Cas sipped his coffee and pet the cat in quiet for a few beats. When he set his mug down and picked up a pair of needle nose pliers, the cat jumped off his lap. At least it wandered away, instead of trying to jump on Dean again. When Cas flipped down one of the lenses on his little head belt o’weirdness, it made his one eye all big and funny looking. Dean didn’t mean to laugh. Cas just squinted at him.

“So, uh, I was restocking a few things. Not sure what else to do around here when there isn’t customers.”

“Just run the counter. There’s a section for books, if you’re bored.”

Draining the rest of his mug, Dean slapped a thigh before standing. “Sounds good.” He’d offer to get a refill, but Cas’ cup was still half full. So Dean left him there with the old broken pieces of jewelry he was putting back together with meticulous care. Dean wasn’t too sure if Cas knew what his partner was, what Cain had done before he came here.

Or if he was a part of it himself. Cas was a weird little dude. But he was all right. Dean wanted to believe he was in the dark.

When he heard the bell chime over the door, Dean stuffed his dusty rag in his back pocket and made his way to the front counter to offer help. There were two hot brunettes, leather jackets and tight jeans hugging their curves, wicked smiles on their painted lips. The shorter one looked at Dean, propped her hands on her hips and stepped way too close for comfort.

“Hey Ken doll, is Cas around?”

“Yeah he’s in the back, give me a minute, I’ll get him for you.”

The taller one, with wider lips and a scowl, brushed past him, “Don’t worry about it, we know him.”

Dean stomped after them as they wove back through the store towards the ‘Employees Only’ sign. “Hey, you can’t just go back there.”

Only, when they found Cas in his little office with his broken jewelry and Dean was ready to physically haul their asses out of the store, Cas shut the door in his face.


	3. Safe and Unknown

Cain was glad for his good fortune when Wednesday, their off day, came bright and sunny. At least some things were working in their favor. With a woven basket held on his hip, he bent over the tall heavy stalks of tomato plants and gently tested the tomatoes for ripeness, plucking about half off their stalks and nestling them in his basket. They’d needed to put in work in the gardens for weeks now, but with the business at the shop and the search for extra hands around there, the gardens had been neglected.

Castiel was working methodically along the rows on his knees, digging up weeds with a trowel. His plastic bucket was already mostly full with scraggly vegetation. Dark hair matted to his head with sweat and a thin gray tee shirt sticking to his back with it, he did provide a distraction. But Cain needed time in the garden to think, to get his thoughts straight.

Moving on from the tomatoes, he crouched by the zucchinis to see if there were any falling off the stalk. The patch of corn that sat further back in the yard behind their house was separate from the other vegetables so its tall stalks couldn’t overshadow them. The corn was growing nice and fat this year; Cain would enjoy plenty of Castiel’s cornbread this fall.

Sun warm on his bare arms, stray hairs that had fallen out of their bun wisping across his face with the slight breeze - it was the perfect day for gardening. There was a knot of tension in his gut that had been winding tighter with a dread sense of foreboding. Cain would not ignore his instincts. Something was wrong, or would be very soon. And he suspected that it had come in with the two brothers who were working for them now.

They were good men, on the surface, made a very good impression. Hard working, kind, eager to help out and excellent with the customers. Cain suspected that their traffic had picked up so fast - mostly with older women - because one of the boys could be seen around the shop any day of the week.

He didn’t quite trust them though. And he couldn’t exactly vocalize why, which only made him more wary.

It was hard to scowl at a basket of vegetables, though. Taking his overflowing basket to the back porch to grab another, Cain made a mental note to fix the loose board in the porch before winter. The house was in good shape, for as old as it was, mostly due to the hard work that he and Castiel had put in when they purchased it. Almost seven years now, and the white paint on the exterior was still bright. Moss green painted shutters were cheerful, lace curtains coverings the view to the inside.

They had a good life here. An honest life. Cain would never forget where they’d come from or what they’d done to get here, but people do change.

Castiel sat back on his heels and wiped his brow on the back of his arm, smiling as Cain approached with an empty basket to check the check the carrots. The bridge of his nose was burning a little pink, though he tended to tan evenly. Castiel’s bare feet were caked dirty and Cain would scoff at him later, like usual, when he’d have to fetch a bucket of water for Castiel to clean off on the porch before coming in.

He didn’t know what was wrong or how to say it, but they needed to work together.

“So what do you think of the boys?”

“Sam and Dean?” Castiel asked curiously, bending forward again to work a stubborn weed from the dirt.

“Yes. They’re nice, good around the shop.” Kneeling in the dirt, Cain set aside his basket to work on the weeds next to Castiel.

“They are,” Castiel answered, “But I don’t really trust them.”

“Neither do I.”

With only a sense of amusement, Castiel asked, “Then why did you agree to hire them?”

“Because if they are bad news, then it’s best to keep them close.”

Humming in consideration, Castiel grunted when he finally pulled the weed free, falling back a little and triumphantly tossing it in the bucket. Nodding, he commented, “That’s true. I suppose Meg and Ruby might enlighten us on the matter.”

Of course, if Meg and Ruby had come in to town with important business shortly after the Smiths, then Cain had suspected they were connected somehow. In any case, he and Castiel would find out tomorrow.

“Probably. Still, be careful.”

Castiel paused his work, shuffling on his knees closer to Cain and placed a hand on Cain’s forearm. Solemnly, he agreed, “I will.”

Cain wanted to believe that everything would work out and he wanted to tell Castiel that it would all be fine, but neither of them was interested in empty platitudes. Instead, he leaned forward as he wrapped an arm around Castiel’s shoulder, kissed his neck and made him shiver, pressed him down against the earth between the rows of vegetables in this garden they’d made with their own hands in this place that had been so much more than Cain ever expected he could have.

Castiel was warm beneath him, eager with his hands and gentle with his mouth. Cain would not let this go. They had worked too hard for this. To be safe and unknown.

-

After work on Thursday, Cain locked up the shop and went to a deli in town for dinner with Castiel. As seven o’clock rolled around, they drove the truck to the road up Grandfather Mountain that connected to the Blue Ridge Parkway. The switchback trail slowly climbed the steep side of the mountain and wound lazily through the trees. At the base, still near to the town, there was a scattering of houses all set back from the road. The higher the road went the more it thinned out until it was just forest, dense and shaded.

Where the switchback road connected to the Parkway, the mile markers started. Just a few minutes driving South there was a small gift shop and restaurant styled like an old log cabin. Passing that, they drove along the lazy Parkway that followed the spiny ridge of the Appalachian mountains. There were drive off areas to park and enjoy the view, some had picnic tables and others had trails for hiking through the woods.

The first year that they had moved here, Cain and Castiel explored up and down the Parkway, through multiple trips stopping at every vista and historical sight. They took weekend getaways to explore the towns running just beyond the parkway like veins, thriving on the business the Parkway brought with diners, B&B’s, antique shops, seasonal festivals. It was a beautiful area stretching down from Virginia into North Carolina, marked with old stone bridges and pathways from the Depression era work projects.

This was a much different sort of life than either of them were used to. Tucked away hiding in the mountain’s shadows in a small sleepy town running an antique shop. It was about as far from being a gang member in a big city as you could get, without completely going off the grid.

Past several pull overs, Cain steered the truck into a picnic area. It was East facing, so those out for a glimpse of the sunset across the valley views would be elsewhere. The sky was still a bright blush red, the undersides of the clouds limned in vivid color, the horizon darkening with night. There were two Harleys in the small parking area already.

Castiel ran a hand through his hair as he got out of the car, but that only served to make it messier. There was a grim determination to the set of his face. Cain was trying very hard not to over-think all the reasons that Ruby and Meg would be showing up here now. Strolling down the slope of green lawn to where a small stone patio area sat on the edge of the mountain, the two women were already seated close to one another talking. Meg sat on top of the picnic table, her feet planted on the bench to either side of Ruby. Arms resting on Meg’s thighs, Ruby leaned into her space and whispered quietly.

When they noticed Cain and Castiel approaching, the women turned towards them. Meg leaned back, bracing her palms on the picnic table.

“Well gosh, isn’t it a surprise to see you boys around these parts.”

She smiled, her lips painted deep red. Castiel took a seat on the bench beside Ruby, and Cain sat opposite him. The wood was worn smooth from the years, dipping in the middle. There was no one else at the pull over, just the sound of the wind in the trees and the clank of buckles on Meg’s leather jacket as she hopped off the table to sit on the bench next to Cain.

Castiel ducked his head. Cain knew there were some things that he missed. Maybe not the drugs - hopefully not - but he had been close to Meg.

Cain propped one arm on the table. “How have you been, Meg? Ruby?”

They might have business here, but that didn’t mean the four of them couldn’t be polite and catch up. They’d only talked briefly when Ruby and Meg had arrived several days ago, waiting for a private moment.

Ruby stretched her arms above her head and smiled, “You know, can’t complain, business has been pretty good even if it’s all going to shit.”

Meg shrugged. “We get by. You two holding up?”

Castiel nodded when he answered quietly, “We’ve done well, made a home for ourselves, a safe home.”

Meg looked a little sad when she said, “I hope it stays that way. Those guys you got working for you, the Winchesters -”

“- You mean Sam and Dean Smith?” Cain cut in.

Ruby laughed, “Smith, sure. That’s pretty fucking generic. Their real name is Winchester. They’re bounty hunters.”

Clenching his jaw, Cain seethed. “You don’t say.”

“And just guess what they’re in town for?” Meg asked, sugar sweet, propping her chin on her hand and leaning over the table with a wry smile.

Castiel was squinting at her. “Why now? What happened?”

Cain recognized the gesture as one of nerves when Meg ran a hand through her wild hair, tousling it at the back. “There’s been a shift of power. Lots of factions are fighting it out for who gets to be top dog. Lucifer’s in prison and he’s going to stay there a long time.”

Taken by surprise, Cain was silent.

Meg continued, “We still don’t know who the fuck set it up or how, but Lucifer and Michael were both caught - separately. But, at the same time. Something’s not right about that. Michael was probably confident he’d be able to squirm his ass out of prison again, but he was hit inside, Luci’s guys, got fucking shanked in the bathroom and almost managed to take one of them with him.”

Castiel’s face slipped into shock momentarily before settling into the perfectly calm flat mask Cain hadn’t seen in a long time. “Michael’s dead?”

Meg tapped her fingers anxiously on the table, chipped purple polish on her short nails. “Yeah. Confirmed. Michael’s dead.”

Ruby picked up the thread, “But Luc’s not, and he’s still got a lot of supporters, inside and out. People are grabbing for power anyway they can, splitting everything up and fighting. The biggest contenders right now are Abaddon and Crowley.”

“Crowley?” Cain asked. “The book-keeper?”

“Yep,” Ruby shrugged. “Apparently, he’s been pulling a lot of strings behind the scenes for a while, he’s coming forward now with Luc behind bars. Spineless dick. But I don’t really think he’s who we have to worry about. I think it’s Abby.”

Ruby looked at Cain meaningfully. He hadn’t heard from Abby, from anyone, since he and Cas pulled their big move and disappeared. But if anyone was holding a grudge against him, it would be her. Scratching his beard, Cain asked, “Are you sure this is on Lucifer’s side? What’s happening with the Krushnics without Michael - would someone come after Castiel or have the rumors that he survived died down?”

Shaking her head, Meg told them, “Krushnics have been quiet. Might be planning retaliation, might be having problems figuring out who’s gonna take over now but we don’t know. They’ve slowed down their business a little, but you know how tight-lipped they are.”

Castiel sat with his hands folded in his lap, finally joining the conversation again, “Why would anyone take out a hit on Cain after so long though?”

“Establish dominance? Tie up loose ends?” Meg sighed. “I don’t know, Abby’s fucking batshit; why does she do anything? If she finally has the power to go after Cain and wants to make an example of him to solidify her power, that might be it. I doubt it’s Crowley. He’s pragmatic, he’s made a lot of moves to get people in power in his pockets. Police, politicians. Abby just … does whatever she wants.”

Ruby nodded, “Probably Abby. We didn’t hear about it direct though. Just made its way along the grapevine and we eventually heard, did some digging. These Winchesters, they’re dangerous. Don’t underestimate them ‘cause they’re pretty.”

Cain grinned and glanced at Castiel, “Oh I haven’t made that mistake in a while.”

Meg shoved his shoulder and pulled one leg up to hold against her chest, turning more towards him. “We’re serious, it’s hard to get any good info with all the chaos, but people still talk about you two.”

Castiel tapped his fingers on the table. “It’s been almost seven years.”

Snorting, Ruby grinned at him, “Yeah but come on, you guys are like some gay hit man Romeo and Juliet story, people are never gonna stop talking about that. It was hilarious and then it was very, very bad and now it’s hilarious again.”

Cain ignored her and asked, “How long are you two going to be in town?”

“Not sure, we were thinking of sticking around to see what happens, help if we can.” Meg answered.

Castiel was quiet when he spoke, “You don’t have to.”

Meg was picking under her fingernails and looking down when she replied, “We uh, we were thinking of slipping out with everyone distracted.”

Cain didn’t miss the glare Ruby gave her. If there was a lot of in-fighting and back-stabbing going on, it would be the opportune time. But Cain knew Ruby was loyal, and Meg had been once - stubbornly so - but a lot could happen in seven years time and there was something different about her. About the both of them, actually.

Standing, Cain brushed his hair back and nodded at the two of them, “We appreciate you coming down to give us warning. Let me know if we can help your situation, in any way.”

Ruby and Meg both mumbled ‘yeah’s,’ kicking each other under the table. They said their goodbyes, going opposite directions along the Parkway.

Castiel was subdued and stiff, silent the whole ride home as he turned his face from Cain to watch out the windows. It was a shame that things had to turn out like they did sometimes. Cain didn’t doubt that Lucifer would find a way out of prison, or that he could maintain his control from inside. He was dangerously intelligent, and although Cain had doubted that Lucifer would ever let him live if he left, Cain had given him a clear enough message. Maybe there was a certain level of respect between them that he had been able to leave so long as he cut ties completely.

Lucifer’s men though - and women - the cruel and the corrupt that he attracted to himself magnetically, they could and would do as they pleased if they were convinced they could get away with it.

Cain had no doubt that Abaddon still held a grudge.

-

The bed was empty and cold next to him when Cain woke up Friday morning. The sky was still gray with early light, the sun coming up on the horizon but not quite there yet. He could hear the pop of gunshots in the field next to the house. Shuffling to the window, Cain looked out across the creeping mist on the dewy lawn, out under the expanse of the lightening sky, and spotted Castiel in the high grass with his shoulders straight and his arms in front of him, shooting glass bottles off the fence that divided the field from the farmable land.

Scrubbing a hand over his eyes, Cain brushed his fingers back through his hair and picked a pair of jeans out of the dresser, slipping them on and grabbing a plaid overshirt as he made his way first to the bathroom, then downstairs to the kitchen. Setting on a pot of coffee to brew and heating the oven to warm biscuits, Cain padded through the house back to his study. In the gun cabinet next to the stacked book shelves he picked out his Beretta, checking the clip and safety before tucking it in the waist of his jeans and winding through the house back to the kitchen to pull on his boots.

The morning air in the mountains was chilly, damp against his forearms where his sleeves were rolled up, the mist receding as the sun hit the horizon line and bathed the world in gold. Castiel’s face was severe where Cain found him, still shooting glass bottles. With practiced efficiency, he changed the clip and resumed his activity. There were a lot of bottles still lining the fence, a lot of broken glass in the grass.

“Come inside Castiel, I started breakfast.”

There was no answer, just the deafening and measured clap of gunshot in precise intervals as Castiel practiced. His face was perfectly calm, perfectly blank. Posture forward, stiff, elbows bent slightly. He was still wearing the same jeans and button down from last night, when Cain had left him in the living room to find his company in a bottle of gin.

Cain could understand the need for space and silence. A pause to think and sort things out. He could understand the need to feel strong and in control.

But he didn’t like seeing Castiel like this, not anymore.

Drawing his own gun and switching off the safety, Cain took position next to Castiel and swiftly shot the rest of the glass bottles with him as the air warmed with the sun. When all the bottles were gone, Castiel lowered his gun and scowled over at Cain, who simply put his safety back on and stepped closer.

“Come back inside. Did you sleep at all last night?”

“No.”

With nothing left to shoot, Castiel stubbornly grit his teeth and flexed his hold on his gun before flicking on the safety and following Cain back into the house. The aroma of coffee and biscuits was warm and familiar in the kitchen as Cain kicked off his boots and set his gun on the counter. There were dark circles under Castiel’s glassy and red-shot eyes, his hair rumpled, mouth pinched.

Cain took his gun from him, set it on the counter. “You can stay home today, if you like. There’s still work to be done in the gardens.”

Castiel shook his head, still standing by the door. There were things Cain wanted to give him, which he knew Castiel wouldn’t accept. And there were words Cain should say, but the mutually understood silence between them was a respect, of sorts. There was a reason Castiel was in the field shooting, after all. The presence of Ruby and Meg, the news that they brought and the reason for it, that dredged up old memories which the both of them would rather have left behind and forgotten about.

Cain hadn’t been steeped in it since birth though, not like Castiel had. He didn’t know Lucifer as personally as Castiel had, and he knew Michael even less.

Right now, Castiel wasn’t present in the safety of their farm house. Cain could recognize the look on his face, an absence there that put him at a distance. There had been a time Cain had hated Castiel for the family he came from, but never quite as much as Castiel hated himself.

Castiel needed to push back, he needed something to fight, still, Cain could understand that. Sometimes, it needed to hurt. Like cutting out a festering abscess.

Scuffing his quiet socked feet over the linoleum floor with clear agitation, Castiel rifled through the cupboards noisily as he brought down mugs and slammed them on the counter. He paused with his hands braced on the edge of the counter, tension strung tight through his body, in the jut of his shoulders pressed back and the clench of his jaw. Crowding up behind him, Cain pushed his hips forward to pin him against the counter.

He pushed back. Pushed his hips against Cain’s, shoulders straightening as he shoved to dislodge Cain, but his hands clapped tight over Cain’s where they framed Castiel’s hips and squeezed. Twisting Castiel’s shirt up to slide his hands underneath, drag blunt fingernails across the warm skin of his belly, Cain kicked Castiel’s feet apart and pushed a thigh between his legs, shifting him forward and off balance.

Slapping a hand to brace on the cupboard in front of his face, Castiel bowed forward with a grunt and tensed, wavering between actually fighting to get away or struggling to let himself take it. Cain didn’t let him decide all on his own. Instead, fingertips dipping down beneath the waist of his jeans, Cain leaned forward to rub his jaw against the back of Castiel’s neck. Nose a path around the curve of his neck to the underside of an ear, nip at the soft skin there until he found the spot that made Castiel shiver. Sinking his teeth into the tender skin, popping the button on Castiel’s jeans, Cain shoved him hard into the edge of the counter and took. Bodies had their own sort of language, when words never quite fit the why or the what.

Yanking Castiel’s jeans down, Cain cupped him, half hard, ground against him from behind and wrested control of him. It was easy to push then push harder when Castiel yielded, let the poisoned hate seep out of his muscles until he sagged against the cupboard and went pliant under Cain. Exhausted, probably still drunk, skin chilled from morning air it didn’t take much.

Running a calloused hand under his shirt, up the skin of his side rubbing warmth into his body, Cain could trace the scars on him by feel and knew where to turn to reach the next one. He knew what some were from, guessed others, and there were a few he’d given to Castiel himself. Faded now to faint slivers, but even those which were worn to smoothness by time he still recognized.

Curling a hand around Castiel’s cock to draw a shiver out of him, feel him thicken and fill out, his hips stuttered forward on a sigh. A simple distraction, effective. A reminder, of who’s Castiel was. Keeping teeth and lips and a curl of breath against the nape of his neck, Cain circled one arm to squeeze around his waist as his other hand worked faster, wringing a strangled cry from Castiel.

Pushing back, a give-take, Cain was hard in his jeans rubbing against the friction of Castiel’s backside, keeping both hands on him. Holding him, taking him apart. Skin warmed quick in the oven-heat of the kitchen, the fraught energy of distress diverted to release with a firm hand, Cain pulled it roughly from him. Bit hard till his teeth were marked in semi-circles over the tan skin of Castiel’s neck, pushed to knock his hips into the counter edge, cock held tight between the counter and Cain’s hand, heartbeat drumming fast under his ribs where Cain splayed a hand.

Sudden snap crack of his hips, shoulders rolled back and head dropped, Castiel fucked into the circle of Cain’s hand and came with a shaky roll of his body down the spine and shifting in his legs until he stilled, panting, both hands on the counter.

Trailing fingertips over the quiver of Castiel’s belly, Cain squeezed a hip on the way around to unbutton his pants. Still holding Castiel in the other hand, sticky wet and warm, Cain nuzzled softer into the crook of his neck breathing the salt sour smell of a night spent drinking - an old familiar smell. Stroking himself against the smooth skin of Castiel’s back, a hand come to rest on top of his curling around his forearm where it was wrapped around Castiel’s waist, Cain rested his head between the jut of shoulder blades and let the low burning release shudder through him.

Scratching messy fingers through the curly hair around Castiel’s softening cock, Cain leaned his weight against the other and flattened an ear to Castiel’s back listening to his faint heartbeat slow to a calm level. Grunting and pushing back, Castiel elbowed him. A kitchen towel was thrown in Cain’s face.

Wiping off Castiel’s back and rubbing at least most of it off his own shirt, Cain tucked himself back in and stepped to the sink to wet the towel before passing it back.

“Eggs for breakfast?”

Castiel, scowling, fixed his pants back up. “Coffee.”

Cain pointed at the table. “Sit.”

Noisily scraping the chair on the floor when he pulled it out, Castiel sat with his shoulders hunched and blearily stared at the butter dish on the table. Cain warmed a skillet and whipped eggs with a fork before pouring them, kept the biscuits warm in the oven, and poured coffee. Dosing Castiel’s with whiskey before passing it over, he let the silence sit between them while Castiel mulled.

Plating both their breakfasts, Cain sat and stared until Castiel acknowledged him and picked up a fork.

Castiel poked at his food, shuffling it around his plate without actually eating. After a pause, he laughed brusquely and commented to his eggs, “You know, I’m just bitter that I never got to punch that self righteous dick in his face.”

Cain sipped his coffee. “Getting shanked in a prison bathroom is a pretty terrible way to go.”

Castiel frowned and stabbed his food. “I was such a coward. We just ran away.”

“I don’t think blowing up one of his warehouses counts as ‘just running away’. Doesn’t that give you a measure of satisfaction?”

“Vapidly so.” Castiel rolled his eyes and slumped, taking a small bite of eggs.

“I’m glad we decided to run when we did.”

“Aren’t you still mad at Lucifer?”

“Furious, if I think about it, but there’s no point in that. What we have here is good.”

“Selling antiques and hiding?”

“Getting by, forgetting, having a peaceful life.”

Scowling, Castiel poked at his food some more. He looked vaguely irritated and rumpled, but at least less of a blank slate. Cain returned to his breakfast, and ate in silence. He could be mad all he wanted at Lucifer, yet for all his manipulations, Cain staid for the longest time. And he enjoyed it. He chose to become what he had. It was still a part of who he was, but softened with age and tempered with experience.

There was still food on his plate - coffee mug empty - when Castiel stood and emptied it in the wastebasket, turning on the sink for dishes. Back to Cain, sleeves rolled up and shirt untucked, he angrily began trying to scrub a hole through the skillet.


	4. Bad Girls

Ruby finished digging through their cold leftover Chinese food for chicken chunks when the only thing she could see was vegetables. Finishing off her lukewarm beer, she reclined back with her legs sprawled comfortably in the rickety chair. Their motel room was a shit hole. The usual kind of fare. Smokers room, of course, the dingy wallpaper smoke stained and cigarette holes in the ancient red carpet that had thin worn-down paths from the door to around the bed and back to the tiny bathroom. 

She kind of didn’t want to stay in town for too long, worried about how much could change in the span of a few days lately, back home. But it was kind of nice, getting away from it for just a little while. She hadn’t really had much time to pay attention to Meg in months. 

Meg was reclined on the single queen bed in the room, propped up against the wall with a thick book in her lap and a cigarette between her fingers, wearing just a hole ridden stretched out old Metallica tee. Ruby could see the pink of her pussy when she shifted her legs up a little higher to hold the book in her lap. Frowning at the meager contents of the Chinese takeout container, Ruby asked, “Do you want any of this?”

Meg looked up from her book, took a drag on her cigarette. “Did you pick all the chicken out?”

“Yeah.”

“Toss it.” Shrugging she went back to reading before adding, “Hey, bring me another beer.”

Ruby pitched the leftovers and got a mostly cold beer out of the mini fridge that didn’t even do as good a job as a cooler of ice. Popping the top, she plunked down on the bed next to Meg, swapping the beer for the cigarette. Her hair was still a little damp from her shower, falling down messy over her shoulders. Meg had hers pulled up in a sloppy bun at the top of her head, so it wouldn’t bother her leaning back against the wall as she read. 

Finishing the cigarette and stubbing it out on the tray beside the bed, Ruby settled one hand on Meg’s thigh. 

The corner of Meg’s lips twitched up and she flicked her tongue out against the bottle before taking a swig, still staring down at her book. “I’m in the middle of a chapter.”

“So finish it.”

Sliding her fingers down smooth skin and curving them over the inside of Meg’s thighs, dragging her nails lightly in that way that made Meg twitch, Ruby leaned against her side. 

“Let me at least finish this page.”

“Sooooo… finish it.”

Crawling down on the bed and nudging between Meg’s legs, bumping her head against the heavy book, Ruby sucked a pink bruise into the skin of her thigh close enough to feel the heat of her pussy. 

Meg tapped the book against her head. “Just this paragraph….”

Kneeling up to draw her own tee shirt up over her head, Ruby shook her hips and tapped her fingers on Meg’s knees. “So finish it.” 

Meg had that scowl on her face that was really just her trying to suppress a smile and it ended up looking kind of constipated. She dog eared the page in her book and set it aside, one hand still holding her beer. When she reached out for Ruby, Ruby went easily, Meg’s petite hand curling against the back of her neck. And if she thought she’d be pulled in to the cradle of Meg’s thighs to get a kiss, Ruby was wrong. Instead, Meg shoved her face down and Ruby went happily. 

For all the tattoos Meg had head to toe, thorny roses, bats, snakes and skulls, the insides of her thighs and the top of her cleavage was pale unmarked skin. Ruby loved leaving bruises in those places, putting her mouth to Meg’s body and making a lasting impression. The two of them tended to fall out a lot, and back in, and out. It wasn’t really an ‘on again - off again’ kind of relationship. They were usually in both sorts of spaces at the same time, if that made any sense. Ruby didn’t like getting too close, but they never stayed apart that long. 

In Ruby’s defense, Meg tasted fucking awesome and how could she not keep coming back for this. Meg had that not quite bitter sort of tang girls always did, but there was just something about her, always so fucking hot and wet on Ruby’s tongue. Close trimmed curls smooth against her cheeks, Ruby folded one arm over the top of Meg’s thigh and squeezed her hip while she pressed her fingers inside and licked up the slit. 

Meg was still leaning against the wall, slumped down a little, but it was easy to look up the curve of her body and watch her, dark brown eyes locked on Ruby. She was still drinking her beer. Lips quirked up in a smirk but the first suck Ruby got on her clit, those pretty pink lips parted on a gasp. Meg twisted her fingers up in Ruby’s hair, almost painfully tight, enough to make her scalp tingle as Meg rolled her hips and ground against Ruby’s face. 

Fucking her fingers into the tight wet heat of Meg’s body, feeling the contraction of her squeezing as she tensed and relaxed, Ruby flicked her tongue around the clit several passes before settling down and sucking it between her teeth. Rolling and biting not particularly gently, Meg arched and cursed before leaning over to set her beer down and get both hands in Ruby’s hair. 

Belly to the bed, soft skin of Meg’s thighs against her shoulders, Ruby slipped an arm underneath Meg to squeeze her plump ass and pull her down a little more. Moaning low and easy, Meg folded her legs over Ruby’s shoulders and slid down, rocking her hips with erratic twitches, pussy opening up as her labia swelled with arousal. She was so fucking wet, dripping down Ruby’s fingers, her chin, hips and breath stuttering when Ruby found the right spot deep inside and pressed. Curling her fingers up and rubbing in rhythm with her mouth’s little suck-suck-bite on the tender flesh, Ruby could feel it build in the tremble of Meg’s muscles and the heat of her body squeezing tight before it seized, gushing wet and pulling on Ruby’s fingers with rippling contractions. 

Meg screamed and thrashed, hands pulling at Ruby’s hair and heels digging in to her back as Ruby coaxed another small climax, piggy-backing on the first and unrelenting until Meg let go of her and sprawled limply on the bed. 

Slapping the inside of Meg’s thigh a little sharply, Ruby smirked and swiped the back of a hand against her wet chin. Meg rolled her eyes and lifted one leg, playfully kicking Ruby from between her thighs as Ruby stretched up along the bed and lay next to Meg. Scooting herself up a little to lean against the wall, thin flattened pillow behind her back, Ruby plucked the half-finished beer from the night stand and took a sip. The old mattress was creaky and dipped in the middle, Meg rolling into her space and curling against her side. Ruby nudged her shoulder. 

“Hey, pass me a cig would you?”

With an exaggerated groan, Meg pulled herself out of the dip in the bed to grab the Marlboros off the other night stand, black Bic tucked into the plastic. Ruby lit one, beer still held between her fingers, and tossed the box onto the night stand near her. Lifting one arm up, Meg curled along her body again and nestled into the crook of her shoulder, head pillowed on her chest. 

Meg’s black tee shirt was rucked up around her waist, wide hips exaggerated with the sag of the bed as she hooked one leg over Ruby’s thigh and pulled them open. Chipped purple polish on her short fingernails traced down Ruby’s belly and scratched through her short curls. 

Cigarette dangling off her lips, Ruby brushed her finger tips over Meg’s arm as Meg rubbed a soft cheek against her chest and dipped a hand between her legs. Meg’s breath was warm ghosting over a hard nipple, her tongue darting out to trace the curve of the breast and nuzzle underneath where it was warm and heavy. There was a comfortable sort of ease in getting closer to each other like this, body to body, while they still held each other at arm’s length. 

Inhaling a deep lungful, Ruby reached for the nightstand and set the still lit cigarette in the ash tray. Taking another sip of beer, she set that down too in favor of unwinding the ponytail in Meg’s hair and fingering through some of the knots. Ruby loved the taste of cigarettes, beer and pussy in her mouth. Pulling Meg’s face up, she pressed a kiss to those plush lips, sucking the swell between her teeth and nipping as Meg craned towards her and pressed the heel of her palm against Ruby’s pussy. 

Meg was always fucking insatiable, her hips rolling as she ground against Ruby’s hip, smearing wet all over her. That wicked mouth worked down, kissing and biting from the soft spot below Ruby’s ear down to the curve of her shoulder before licking across her chest. Idly petting Meg’s arm and rubbing down the curve of her back, Ruby relaxed into the wash of sensation as Meg sucked and fingered, squeezed and rolled against her. 

Thrumming with a tight burn of satisfaction, when the pleasure soured into excess overstimulation, Ruby pulled Meg’s hand away. Meg tucked herself closer, stilling, and dragged her wet hand over Ruby’s belly to clutch her waist and hold on. Ruby picked up the beer again, draining it, the cigarette already out. Scratching Meg’s neck, Ruby pulled her arms up to light the cigarette again away from the rat’s nest of Meg’s hair. Meg rolled more onto her back and reached up for it. 

They passed the cigarette back and forth, both sunk into the dip of the bed, motel sheets scratchy under bare skin and pulling off the corners of the mattress. The room was hazy with smoke, late afternoon sunlight golden and swirling with dust through the curls of it rising in the air. Meg sighed against her, chest pressed to Ruby’s side. This was almost a vacation for them, work adjacent, but they didn’t often have time to themselves to laze around with nothing better to occupy themselves but each other’s mouths and hands. 

Meg spoke with her face nestled down on Ruby’s chest, looking away. “You ever think of getting out?”

Ruby snorted. “And going where?”

Meg dipped her fingers into Ruby’s belly button and stroked her stomach. “I don’t know. Anywhere’s gotta be better, right?”

“Same shit, different town. Come on, Meg. What would we even do?” Ruby pulled one leg up and stretched, rolling a crick out of her shoulder. She liked her work, honestly, maybe she was a bad person but there was a demand for what they did and they did it well. Work kept her busy, kept her moving. 

“It’s the perfect opportunity to get out. Az and Lilith are dead, who fucking knows where Alastair is, Luci’s behind bars and probably staying there this time. We could leave. We could make it work.”

Ruby didn’t like having this conversation again. A repeat of seven years ago. She couldn’t take it if Meg left, but didn’t think she could follow. “I’m a fucking high school drop-out junkie, be realistic.”

Meg pushed away and looked at Ruby, jaw set and eyes glassy. “Fucking, come on Ruby, you got out of Lili’s hold, but what, do you really think dealing drugs is a step up from being a whore, is that a promotion for you? I can’t keep doing this. I thought – I just thought if I had someone else’s cause to serve, someone else to follow I could just, forget about what a fucking terrible person I am. And it’s not…. I can’t keep this up for the rest of my life.” 

Stubbing the cigarette out, Ruby slid down on the bed and curled on her side, elbows and knees bumping against Meg’s. “Hey, come on, at least we’re terrible together, right?”

“Ruby…”

“Where would we go?” Reaching out to tuck stray curls behind Meg’s ear, Ruby let her hands wander down to cup a soft breast, feel the heat of Meg’s body instead of looking at her eye to eye. 

“Let’s just ride, take our bikes coast to coast, we’ll find somewhere. People can change, right Rubes?”

“Maybe I don’t want to change.”

“Everybody changes, come on, don’t you want to have a say in it? I’m not gonna pretend we could be anything we wanna be, but we could be something else.”

Knowing Meg wouldn’t let go of the conversation, Ruby did was she did best and avoided it. Rolling over and pushing up, she said “I need a shower,” and shuffled into the relative privacy of the motel bathroom. 

Meg’s family was old school, her dad had been one of Luc’s first men when he split off from the Krushnics. She was always around that kind of thing. Maybe she actually thought the grass was greener on the other side. Ruby couldn’t help laughing at that, quietly to herself, lukewarm water slipping down her skin as she leaned against mildewed and cracked tiles absently lathering soap between her hands. Ruby knew people were all shit down to the core. Rotten. There was no ‘out’ from humanity. 

-

There really wasn’t much to do in a small town like West Jefferson. Other than taking some down time in their motel room and fucking, Ruby and Meg didn’t have a lot on their agenda. So they kept an eye on the antique shop, on Cas and Cain and the Winchesters. Sorry. Smiths. Sure – fucking generic. They’d park their bikes somewhere on the main street or back behind in the library parking lot and walk around the buildings that flanked the antique shop. 

Ruby still couldn’t fucking believe this was what Cain did now. It was kind of hard to reconcile Lucifer’s right hand fucking man that got all the dirtiest jobs with … with this clean cut, perfectly respectable, damn-near gentleman. It made her snicker. 

Now the Winchesters, they were interesting. When they’d started poking around the gang, Ruby had learned that their names were spoken coast to coast, they’d put away and taken out a hell of a lot of people. They were supposed to be good guys, sure, maybe once upon a time. But lately they’d been tangled up with Lucifer’s people an awful lot. Ruby wasn’t too torn up about Lilith. 

Meg insisted that Cas and Cain hadn’t gone soft, but Ruby didn’t believe that. She wasn’t too sure why she’d followed her girlfriend down here to look after them. She knew exactly the reason Meg wanted to come down and warn them – sentimentality - but maybe Meg was on to something. Maybe it was time to tuck tail and run, to get out. Maybe they could actually do it, too. Ruby was trying real hard not to get suckered in by pretty brown eyes and that wicked mouth Meg had. Things were starting to feel different though. With distance between them and the city, away from the politics and mindfuck games.

For now, they were waiting for the others to make a move. Watching out. Getting a feel for the game board and the players. It wasn’t much of a hardship to watch Sam and Dean with their shirt sleeves rolled up and tight jeans hugging their asses hauling heavy furniture out of the big moving truck on the weekends. Not at all. Ruby might not be cultured, but damn could she appreciate a work of art when she saw one. 

So she had a weakness for tall guys, sue her. Getting a little closer to Sam and Dean was what they should be doing - right? - if they wanted to help the retired old geezers. 

-

It was another fucking idyllic late summer Saturday, hazy and warm, that Ruby’d usually be spending on a shipment run but instead she was here. In fucking nowhere West Jefferson where the people were entirely too polite for her to be comfortable. Bikes parked a few blocks over from the shop, her and Meg keeping watch. Almost routine by now. 

The moving truck sat empty and Meg had found her way in to the shop, probably looking for Cas. Sam was sitting in the back at the old picnic table behind the strip of shops, taking a lunch break it looked like. The black cat that hung around the shop sprawled on the top of the table, belly up soaking in the sun while Sam scratched her head. Ruby sauntered up to them and sat on top of the table next to the cat with her feet parked on the bench, facing Sam. 

“Bet that pussy just loves how you pet her, huh?”

Sam choked on the coke he was drinking, hunched over, face turning red. Ruby loved guys who blushed, too - and god, were those dimples. 

“You got nice hands,” she added.

He coughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh. Thanks? I guess.”

Ruby sat with her legs planted wide apart and her elbows resting on her thighs, brown hair pulled over one shoulder. She watched Sam, quietly. Wondered if he’d break first. If he’d get up and go back inside. 

He went back to petting the cat and asked, “So uh, you’re friends with the owners of the shop, right?”

Ruby nodded, “Yeah, old friends. Knew them before they moved here.”

“So they moved here together?”

“Uh-huh. Why?”

“Just curious.” Sam half shrugged, lifted one shoulder and smiled softly at her. 

Ruby leaned a little closer into his space. “You and Dean are brothers, yeah? What made you come round to West Jefferson?”

“Just passing through, seemed like a nice place.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Why?”

“Just curious.” Ruby parroted. 

Sam rolled his eyes at her. One hand still rubbing the cat’s head, he picked up a little zip-loc baggie of baby carrots and offered her some. 

“Ungh. Why?” Ruby frowned at the carrots. Who the fuck ate vegetables that weren’t deep fried?

“Carrots are delicious,” Sam defended himself, crunching on one loudly. 

“So what did you guys do before you came here?” Ruby asked. It was a perfectly reasonable question.

Sam didn’t seem put off. “You know, odd jobs here and there.”

“Lots of physical labor? It’s certainly done you some favors.”

Ruby made sure Sam knew she was checking him out. There was a hell of a lot to check out. Jesus, he was blushing. 

“Are you just stopping in town for a visit…uh, I don’t think I got your name?”

“Ruby.”

“I’m Sam.”

“Hey, Sam.”

“Hi.”

He actually reached out to shake her hand like a dork, massive palm engulfing her and he had a firm handshake, warm. Yeah, his hands could do wonders other places. 

The cat stood and stretched, arching its back and yawning before hopping off the table. Sam rubbed his hands on his jeans and fidgeted with the trash from his lunch. Ruby didn’t make it any easier on him. So she liked to watch boys squirm, so what. 

“Um, I uh, I should probably get back to work.”

“Don’t work too hard.”

Standing, Ruby had to look a ways up to look him in the eyes. She was perfectly aware that he had the perfect view down the low neck of her tank top. Maybe she stood a little closer. 

“That’s… kind of what I get paid for. I’ll, see you around?”

“Sure thing, Sam, I’ll be around.”

And watching him. But he didn’t need to know that Ruby was watching him for anything but sexual interest. That wasn’t even a lie, just a misdirection. Her and Meg owed a few favors to Cas and Cain, but it didn’t mean Ruby couldn’t enjoy her work. 

Ruby was watching him all right. And that fine ass of his. 

-

The sun beat down hot from a clear sky, shining off the metal of their bikes as Ruby sat on the lip of the concrete walk in front of their room door. Meg had left the door propped open, sprawling just inside on the bed reading something. Ruby knew she’d be listening in on the conversation, and didn’t really care. They both’d agreed that they needed to get in touch with someone back home. People disappeared for a few days all the time, sure, but pushing a few weeks was suspicious. 

The parking lot was empty except for their bikes, cracked asphalt scattered with litter and weeds pushing up. Hunching over her lap and bracing her arms on her thighs, Ruby made the call. It was a calm hot day, sun tingling on her skin, not a single breeze. 

“Hello dear.” A thick accent greeted her politely on the other end of the line. 

“Hey, momma hen, got all the boys on leashes yet?”

“Oh, I’m working on it. And what exactly are you and Meg working on it?”

“You know, this and that. We’re not missing anything too important, are we?”

Rowena scoffed, it was hard to read what she meant without being able to see her face, she was way too good at lying. “Well, someone’s missing you, but generally, they’re too busy with their heads up their assess to pay much mind. You don’t just so happen to be chasing after two boys do you?”

“What do you know about the Winchesters?”

“The Winchesters? I know they’re a thorn in everyone’s side. Why my son has even deigned to do any business with them is beyond me.”

“Would you tell me the truth if I asked if the hit out on Cain is from Crowley?”

“Och, I have no reason to lie about that. No, no. Not the one on Cain. Dean’s come sniffing around a few times and I’m not sure what those two are up to.”

“I bet you know exactly what they’re up to.”

“What, little old me? Why, I just sit in the corner and knit, dear.”

“Uh huh. Look, me and Meg’s little party binge is probably gonna last longer than we thought. And we don’t really want anyone else coming after us.”

“Are you planning on coming home?”

“Maybe.”

“Hmm.”

“Come on, whether it’s Crowley or Abaddon stepping into Luc’s shoes, I know you’ll be right behind whoever wins, and you don’t need me or Meg. But if you don’t want Crowley associating with the Winchesters, we could maybe help with that. We just need a little more time.”

“And how exactly do you think I can help?”

“You’re the best bullshit slinger I know.”

“Well isn’t that a compliment.” Rowena sighed dramatically before continuing, “All right, us girls need to stick together. I have no interest in petty squabbles and old grudges. You two enjoy your vacation, dears. I’ll do what I can to serve a distraction.”

“Yeah, thanks. We’ll make sure to give the Winchesters a welcome from you.”

Ruby stared at her phone when the call ended. That was weird. She still had no idea what was really going on, maybe Crowley had hired the Winchesters. Either way, all the grunt workers – like Ruby and Meg – kept getting yanked between Crowley and Abaddon and it was a lot easier for things to slip through the cracks, but Ruby didn’t want to push their luck. Rowena might be sneaky, and a bitch, but she was smart. She had eyes and ears everywhere. Might play pretty and innocent most of the time, but whoever came out on top, she’d be in their shadow. 

-

Another night with a six pack, another day not checking out the sights that West Jefferson didn’t have to offer. Ruby was cranky - nothing new - and thinking too much about what Meg was trying to push. Only it was getting under her skin and Ruby wanted to get in a fight or something just to punch it out. She didn’t want to think about shit like this, about change or hope because those were dangerous things that usually only dug your hole a little deeper. It was crawling down in her though, making her squirm. She didn’t like it one bit. 

Scoping out the shop and watching for the Winchesters was routine by now, but today Ruby was looking for someone else. Sure enough, she found Cain in the stuffy office with all the filing cabinets, going over paperwork on the desk, hair pulled back in a ponytail and thick black framed glasses perched on his nose. 

Smirking to herself, she entered without knocking. “Hey big daddy.”

Cain didn’t even look up when he answered tersely. “No.”

Shutting the door behind her with a click, Ruby invaded his personal space easily, circling around the desk and plopping her ass on a stack of papers next to his right elbow. “What, you want me to call you Knight?”

He still didn’t look at her. “Cain will do just fine.”

Propping one foot on the handle of the desk drawer, Ruby leaned back and rested her hands on the desk. She let a beat pass, kicking her boot heel obnoxiously against the desk and watching him while he carried on with his paperwork. But Ruby was impatient, and bored, and something had been eating away at her so she asked, “Do you ever miss it?”

That got his attention. With a sigh, Cain set his pencil down and took his glasses off, pushing his chair back from the desk and frowning at her. “No, not a single thing.”

“You don’t miss the excitement? The power you had? Man, you were Luc’s right hand, why’d you walk away from that?”

“That’s never what I wanted.”

“Come on, we all have our reasons to get started in it, Luc can be a manipulative dick, but nothing’s ever boring.”

“The reason I got started in it, was because my brother owed a lot of money that he couldn’t pay. And I thought it would be a few favors, that I could just think of it as a job, and I severely underestimated the kind of deals that Lucifer made. So no. I don’t miss a single thing about it.”

Ruby scowled, still kicking her heel. Cain folded his hands in his lap, let her be a petulant little brat and there used to be a time she was terrified of him, but maybe he was never really what she thought he was. Kind of made her wonder if she was really who she thought she was. “Meg wants to get out.”

“That’s not a bad idea, it seems like good timing, if anything.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“And what would you miss, Ruby? The drugs and the parties, the fear for your own life, the fights?”

“Things aren’t bad as they used to be.”

“Do you think it’ll keep going uphill if you stay?”

“Not really.”

“Then leave. People say life is short, but it’s not. A year can be forever.”

“I don’t know what to do,” she confessed, quietly, the last weak argument that she had. 

“Leave. You’ll figure it out. You just have to make the decision.”

“Would you….. would you help us?”

Ruby never believed much in herself, found it easier not to even try, but there was something she wanted to believe in Meg’s conviction, something she wanted to trust when Cain said seriously, “Yes.”


	5. Wild Night

It was kind of amazing how much a person could change in seven years. How much they could stay the same. 

Back then, Cas hadn’t quite fallen far enough to throw in with Luci. But he had never really belonged to Michael either - at least, he wasn’t too loyal when Meg met him. They weren’t really friends at first when Cas started buying from Meg. It was a business relationship; Meg had no idea who he was. Luci fell out of his family’s graces when Cas was pretty young, none of them knew his face, they didn’t know his alias.

Meg had had a lot of fun with Cas, and it wasn’t just the drugs and what he was willing to do for them. You never really know who your friends are when you’re a dealer, see, but she liked Cas. Meg’d never forget the look on Cain’s face when he stormed her apartment ‘cause she’d missed a shipment - getting high, fucking stupid - and Cas was there with her. It was the first time that they’d met. Meg would have never guessed they’d end up forming an alliance to get away from the life. 

That was a hell of a long time ago. If you’d have told her way back then that she’d be sitting on a country porch sipping lemonade with Cas, sober, at this present juncture of her life… Meg would have laughed. 

Kicking her boots up on a low table made of rough wood - looking like a slice out of the middle of a tree - Meg leaned back in the Adirondak chair to sip her lemonade. It was goddam cheerful out. Fat white clouds scuttled across the sky and sun was shining bright, just a little too hot for her taste, breeze shaking the trees gently that lined the backyard keeping border between it and the overgrown field off to the side. 

Christ, they had a fucking garden. And lace curtains. The barn in the back was red. 

She had no idea who Cas was anymore, if this domestic shit was what he was hiding under the sarcasm and drugs. Or if he was just someone wholly new.

The Winchesters had been in town a few weeks now, hadn’t made any moves, and maybe it wasn’t necessarily smart to loosen up a little but Meg had to admit that she was curious about the house Cain and Cas had. Cas seemed like a downright respectable homeowner when he gave her and Ruby the tour, antique painted plates lining the top of the kitchen walls, vases across the fireplace mantle, stacks of books everywhere and mish mosh old quilts slung across every surface. 

And now, they were out on the back porch sipping lemonade. 

“Look, we know they’re here for something. Why don’t we just make the first move on them?” 

That was Ruby for you - she could hold out well on long term plans, but she had to have plans. Got antsy without them, eager to hit first and ask questions later. 

Cas just sipped his lemonade. “And what move would that be?”

“We could tie them up and beat it out of them,” Ruby said with her prettiest smile on.

Cain snorted, “You just want to tie them up.”

“Maybe I do.”

Meg grumbled and crossed her ankles. She half wondered if Cain had made the table, Cas mentioned he did woodwork didn’t he? “If we just sit here and wait for them to make the first move, they’ve got the upper hand on us. Let’s give them a poke. It’ll be fun.”

Cain hummed and folded one leg over the other knee. “They are new to town. It would be polite to invite them out.”

Cas nodded, “Take them out of the familiar environment of the shop.”

Meg added, “We should split them up.”

Cas squinted at her but Meg could see the corner of his lip twitching. “Do you intend to seduce one of them?”

“That’s one way to get information,” Ruby sniggered. 

“Of course, they’d be working too.” Cain remarked.

Ruby rolled her eyes, “Which is why we make the first move. Duh. Get the jump on them.”

Cas set his empty glass down and turned a predatory smile on Cain. “It could be fun.”

-

The joint looked familiar, but Meg had never been there before. It was standard fare biker bar, on the outskirts of town down the two-lane freeway for ten minutes. Gravel lot and peeling cinder block sides, a neon sign in the window just declaring ‘Bar,’ no name given. There was a row of bikes already stretching across the front of the building and a lot for the cars to the side when she and Ruby pulled in late. Moon high up in the sky, just a sliver. The cool air sharp on her face, probably flushed red from the ride now when she pulled her helmet off and shook out her hair. 

Ruby was already grinning when they parked their bikes. Wearing those tight jeans that pulled her ass up into a heart shape. She was totally falling for Sam’s cute dimples and his narrow hips. Meg thought he was pretty hot, sure, but this was more a job to her than pleasure. It could be both, don’t get her wrong, but she knew what she needed to focus on. 

Smoothing down the pleats of her mini skirt, legs bare down to her combat boots, she left her helmet on her bike and followed Ruby into the bar. It was dim inside, walls wood paneled, wide hewn wood plank floor that was mottled with dark stains. Seemed pretty busy for how small a town West Jefferson was, noisy with drunk shouting and a jukebox and a row of five pool tables all taken. 

It was easy to spot their group on the far end of the row of pool tables, Sam’s broad shoulders off to the side, Cas’ perky little ass bent over the table in a nicely worn pair of jeans, Cain standing pretty close for familiarity next to Dean who was sipping from a beer and smiling widely. 

Ruby’s first stop was Sam, and Meg’s first stop was the bar. A shot to loosen up. A shot for luck. A pitcher of beer for the group. Weaving through the crowd, Meg sat the pitcher on a table where Cas’ familiar trench coat was slung across a stool. 

Dean was lining up a shot, Cain and Cas whispering to one side. Meg sidled up to the other side of Sam, Ruby hanging off one of his arms. She was loud enough for everyone to hear when she asked, “Howdy boys, you looking for some real competition?”

Sam’s laughter was a bark. “We should get another table.”

All the other tables were full. Dean sank his shot and moved around to line up again, smiling. “Oh I wouldn’t mind just watching you girls play.”

Ruby licked her lips and squeezed Sam’s arm, “I don’t know, I kind of want to see how Sam handles his stick.”

Meg didn’t miss the way Cas rolled his eyes. He usually had a scowl on, and maybe the lights of the bar weren’t doing him any favors or maybe it was just the years, but the lines around his eyes were deeper. 

Ruby made enough sexually laden flirtations for the both of them to Sam. When Dean sank the eight-ball, he waved them off and retreated to the table. Meg left Ruby and Sam to play; she was damn good, better than Meg was any day. With the noise of the bar blurring conversation like static, they mostly watched the game and drank beer. There was something off about Cas, and she didn’t want hasty veiled conversation, she wanted to talk to him. 

The pitcher was half empty in a matter of minutes. Meg leaned against Cas and told him, “Why don’t you get the next pitcher, then find your way to the bathroom.”

-

Meg waited a few minutes after Cas excused himself. Sipped her beer and watched Ruby tug Sam aside for a game of darts. Cain and Dean were racking up another game of pool. Honestly, it wasn’t like they were subtle and it wasn’t like anyone cared, but Meg waited a beat before taking her empty beer to the bar and trailing back to the corridor that led to the bathrooms. 

Soon as she turned the corner, Cas caught her eye and ducked into the men’s bathroom. Meg followed. She already had a smirk on her lips, a little extra sway in her hips, when she pushed the door to the men’s room open boldly. There was no one else in there but Cas, either good luck or him scaring people away. Cas was quick to shut the door behind her, and lock it. 

In the bright light of the bathroom that hummed over them, Meg got a better look at his face. There were dark bruises under his eye, bags too, hair messy and he looked bone tired.

“You look like shit.”

Cas pursed his lips, hands in his pockets and shoulders bowed in a fraction. “Do you have anything for me?”

“Really?” Meg let her voice drip with sardonic pleasure. Look at this, come back for another taste. Meg couldn’t blame him for being weak given the circumstances. She wasn’t any better. 

“Just a little.” He stated.

“Of course. ‘Cause you can stop any time you want.”

“Meg –“

“Yeah, I’ve got some.”

Dipping into her cleavage, ID and money tucked under her breast in the left cup of her bra, there was a small glass vial tucked into the right that she pulled out. Little black screw top. Three quarter full with white powder. 

“It’s on me, for old time’s sake.”

“Thank you.”

His voice was rough too, rougher than usual. Meg didn’t know what he’d had before she and Ruby had gotten to the bar, but he’d been drinking pretty heavy even if there was no sway to his step. 

The floor was sticky and the mirrors were streaked, residue in the bottom of the sinks and graffiti on the toilet stalls. Meg hopped up onto the lip of a cold porcelain sink, skirt so short it rode up and her thong wasn’t much of a barrier but she didn’t much mind. Spreading her thighs, she unscrewed the coke and tapped out a generous bump onto her thigh. 

Cas watched her, squinted and his lips turned down in a frown. But he stepped forward and crouched between the vee of her thighs, stubble scraping harsh against smooth skin as he pressed himself in and held one nostril closed to snort the powder off her skin. Rubbing himself against her, eyes closed, he rested warm hands on both her thighs as his posture sagged. 

Meg brought a hand to his head, pushing through soft hair and scraping her nails lightly against his scalp. There was a little gray coming in at his temple. Glassy blue eyes looked up at her, dilating wide, as he pressed a soft kiss to the inside of her thigh. 

“You always did have the best medicine.”

Closing her thighs tighter around his head and locking her ankles behind his back, Meg laughed. “Gotta watch out for those side effects though, huh Clarence?”

Humming against her thigh, he nuzzled higher, biting and sucking his way up to her pussy. Content to rub his face against her for a pause, before nudging his nose along the crease of her thong and scraping his cheek at the tender junction of her leg. Meg twisted her fingers up in his hair and pulled him harder against her, rolling her hips perched on the edge of the sink. 

Tugging her thong aside in his teeth, Cas slid his tongue into the wet folds of her pussy as Meg leaned back against the mirror with a sigh. She’d missed his tongue. She’d missed this. Him. He always managed to surprise her. They were never really good for each other though. Feeding on each other’s worst sins, they were destructive together. 

It was nice to remember though, the good parts, nice to have his mouth on her again as Meg held herself steady to tap out a small bump onto the web of her thumb and snort it before putting the vial back into her cleavage. Nice to feel like she still knew who he was and could understand what he wanted, what they were. 

It wasn’t really how it was, but she could pretend a while. 

At least until some asshole pounded on the bathroom door. Cas jerked up, hair wrecked, lips shining wet from her and a smile on his face. At least she could give him that. Hopping off the sink and pulling her skirt down, Meg patted his cheek as Cas stood and tugged at the front of his pants. She gave him a wink before unlocking the door and strutting out, glaring at the bear of a guy on the side. 

Ruby was at the bar with Sam, downing shots, and across the room Cain had a hand on the small of Dean’s back bent over the pool table. Everything seemed to be going smoothly. Meg slid onto a stool on the other side of Sam from Ruby, balanced herself with a hand on his thigh, leaned in close when he smiled at her. 

Business as usual. 

-

When the loud rumble of their bikes cut off, Meg could hear the crunch of gravel under shifting weight and clipped sharp laughter from Ruby. Sitting on the bike next to Meg, on the back. She let Sam drive. Meg’d cluck her tongue in disapproval, but she wouldn’t mind the chance to feel him up herself. Guys were usually drawn to Ruby faster than her, she was honey sweet and oh so good at a lure, where Meg was more prickly. But they made a good team together. 

Sam passed the keys back to Ruby. “Been a while, thanks.”

“You handle her nice.”

Ruby’s smile was wide as she slung her leg over the bike, helmet tucked under arm. Meg had the room key; even for as shoddy as the place was it was one of those plastic swipe cards. Barely stepped inside, hands settled firmly on her waist from behind and spun her to pin her against the wall. Lifting her arms to wrap around Sam’s broad shoulders, Meg tipped her head back for his eager kisses, mouth against her lips, her jaw, her chest. 

Hands slithered between them, Ruby working at Sam’s belt, grinding him forward against Meg from behind. Carding her fingers through soft hair, Meg lifted one leg to rub against Sam’s hip and he pulled up, panting. 

“Fuck, you two…”

Ruby wasn’t even tall enough to look over his shoulder, “Think you can handle both of us?”

Meg reached down to rub over Ruby’s hand, down, cupping Sam’s cock through his jeans and oh he had more than enough. “I don’t know Rubes, but I’ll take care of you when he wears out.”

In a blink, Sam spun her around with wide hands on her hips and hefted her up to toss her casually on the bed. Bouncing on the cheap mattress, sheets still rumpled from that morning because she and Ruby always put up the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign, Meg kicked off her shoes as Sam turned to Ruby and worked her pants open. Jesus, he was huge, and Meg always knew he would be huge but seeing his whole body stooped over Ruby, hands engulfing her waist, broad shoulders curving down towards her, he was huge.

Meg didn’t even bother pushing her short skirt off, rucked it up around her waist and wriggled out of her thong as Ruby sunk to her knees and whipped Sam’s jeans down. Again. Huge. Fucking huge. Practically slapped Ruby in the face with it, cock hard and bobbing, Ruby going down on it eagerly. Sam pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside, all hard packed muscle and breadth, hands pushing into Ruby’s hair as he fucked forward several thrusts. 

Getting a hand on her pussy and one shoved under her shirt, too impatient to take it and her bra off, Meg pinched a nipple and rubbed her clit while she watched those two getting sort of naked. Ruby pulled off Sam, small hands on his hips squeezing, “Fucking look at her.”

Sam tossed his hair out of his face and turned towards Meg, one hand still cradling Ruby’s head as the other stroked his cock. Spit shining on Ruby’s lips she smiled at Meg, reaching behind herself to undo her bra under her shirt. Meg splayed her legs wider, pushing two fingers down the sides of her pussy and spreading it open wide as Sam licked his lips. 

“Christ.”

Ruby stood fluidly, pulling off her shirt and dropping her bra in one motion, shoving Sam towards the bed. Crawling up between Meg’s legs, he went down on her sloppily. Biting hard along the crease of her thigh, licking up the slit, biting the other side, and noisily lapping at her clit, Sam was zero to a hundred in a second flat. The bed rocked as he shimmied his jeans down and kicked his boots off the edge of the bed while licking into her cunt, long line of his back sloping up, dark tan in the room only illuminated by the parking lot lights coming through the slatted blinds. 

Sinking her fingers into long soft hair, Meg pulled Sam’s face closer and ground against him with a roll of her hips, arching her back on a sigh. Ruby, completely naked and long hair wild, scooted up the bed to curl next to Meg, tugging her shirt up and roughly teasing her breasts out of her bra, cups folded half down and twisted. Long nails pricked over her chest and plucked at her nipples, skin tingling and heat curling in her gut as Meg writhed under the two of them. 

Reaching out, she yanked Ruby down by the hair to kiss her messily, all teeth and sharp need. “You should ride my face while he fucks me.”

Tugging a lip between teeth and pulling with a hum, Ruby smirked at her. “Better get your fucking chin soaked wet.”

Sam pulled away, and Meg would mourn the loss of his talented mouth but he had something else she wanted even more. Reaching over the edge of the bed to grab his discarded jeans, Sam pulled out condoms and slid up the bed with a predatory sort of glide. Meg wrapped one leg around his waist and hitched the other higher as Ruby knelt up to sling her leg over Meg’s face. 

Grinning, Sam asked, “Want me to go easy on you?”

“If you don’t leave bruises, baby, it’s not hard enough,” Meg retorted. 

Condom rolled down, Sam laughed and spread his massive warm hands against the backs of her thighs, pushing up as he leaned forward and rutted the length of his cock along the wet pink of her vulva. Groaning, Meg knocked her head back on the bed and reached up for Ruby’s hips to pull her down, sweet glistening pussy hovering above her face and Meg loved the smell of it, drenched from riding and flirting and just being Ruby. 

Sucking at the soft tender skin as Meg sunk her nails into Ruby’s hips and craned up to tongue fuck her, Meg gasped at the sudden thrust of Sam pushing into her balls deep in one swift shove. His hands clenched tight into her thighs and pried her wide open tilting her hips up as he pistoned into her ruthlessly with no work up. It was fucking perfect, made her belly go tight and her toes curl at the intensity of it.

Ruby dropped down to ride her face as Meg squirmed, struggling to breathe smothered by Ruby and not giving a single shit. Panting wetly and tipping her head to breathe through her nose, Meg nipped at the delicate swollen bud of the clit and rolled it between her teeth until she couldn’t hold on because Sam was jostling her up the bed so forcefully. She could feel the roll of impact in her fucking teeth, he was slamming into her so hard. Messy wet and clenching around him as he fucked her closer to the edge, Meg held on to Ruby as Sam manhandled her and lifted one leg up over a shoulder as the hard pad of his thumb started rubbing firm circles over her clit at the same time he ground into her with deep shoves. 

Shaking apart with it, Meg moaned and jerked her hips erratically as the thrumming heat under her skin washed out to gentle ripples of pleasure. Sam was pulling back, Ruby kneeling up. Meg let her arms flop to the side of her head. She didn’t pay attention to what they were saying. Ruby shuffled down and straddled Meg’s waist, lifting up on hands and knees as Sam gripped her waist and fucked her from behind. 

Pushing up the bed from under Ruby to curl up on her elbows, Meg cupped Ruby’s face and kissed her slack open mouth as Sam pushed her forward. Make-up smeared and hair tangled, Ruby looked best when she was trashed. 

Catching her breath, muscles trembling finely, Meg reached between their bodies to cup a breast and squeeze as Ruby whimpered. Holding Sam’s gaze over her shoulder, Meg told him, “Lift her up on your lap.”

Swiftly, Sam circled his strong arms around Ruby’s waist and hefted her up, legs spread wide over his thighs, and bounced her on his cock. Ruby reached up behind her to grip into Sam’s hair, her other hand on his arm still around her waist as her perky tits swayed. Kneeling up, Meg flopped onto her belly and nudged her way between Sam’s legs. His thick cock stretched Ruby’s pink lips wide, slick shining down on his balls as Ruby lifted up to sink onto him, matching his upward thrusts. 

Reaching one hand under them to cup Sam’s heavy balls drawn up tight, bracing her weight on the other, Meg shoved in close and licked at the connection of their bodies, lapping up the hard length of his cock and against the soft folds of her cunt. She could hear Sam above them muttering ‘fuck’ and Ruby’s familiar ‘shit yeah…”

Haphazard and sloppy, dripping spit and half just rubbing her face against them, Meg teased and toyed with them until Ruby squirted wetly against her in a sudden pulse, sobbing jaggedly through it while Sam fucked her even harder and grunted like a dying animal when he came. With the bed creaking under the three of them, Meg pushed back to sit up on her heels. Flushed hot and sticky, she pulled her hair up with one hand and fanned herself with the other as Ruby gingerly lifted off Sam and stretched out on the mattress pressing her head to Meg’s thigh. 

Chest heaving, sweat dripping down the ridge of his pecs and abs, Sam sat back on his ass and stretched his legs out to the other side of Meg as he took off and tied the condom, tossing it towards the trash can where the first condom was laying a foot away from. 

Ruby huffed breathlessly, “Holy shit.”

Groaning at the soreness of her muscles, Meg finally pulled her shirt and bra off then wiggled out of her skirt as she sat back against the wall, Ruby laying over her lap and Sam looking around uncertainly. 

Crawling over Sam’s legs, Meg stood and pulled him in for a wet kiss, patting his cheek. “I need to piss. Keep her company.”

As she clicked the bathroom door shut quietly behind her, Meg could hear Ruby mumbling, “Are you staying,” and Sam’s soft, “Okay.”

-

Meg rolled over with a groan, or at least tried to, blinking awake in the mostly dark with a strong arm curled around her waist and heat pressed up against her back. Red neon light slipped in around the corners of the curtain and slanted against the wall in front of her. Waking up slowly and trying to remind herself why she wanted to wake up instead of falling back to sleep, Meg scooted towards the edge of the bed incrementally. 

Carefully easing out from under a long arm, Meg slipped off the bed quietly and felt over the contents of the bedside table. Phone, cigarettes. Glancing over her shoulder to check if Sam had woken up, she saw him snuffle and roll over to wrap himself around Ruby instead. Squirming in her sleep, Ruby shifted onto her belly. She wasn’t much of a cuddler. 

Slowly feeling around the motel room, eyes adjusting to the dark that was well enough illuminated by the glow of the clock and the light coming through the cracks, Meg slipped on a pair of jeans and a tee shirt. She wasn’t sure who’s was what, things scattered around the room. Pretty sure she had Sam’s shirt on, by the smell of it, and how freaking huge it was. Kicking across the floor, Meg finally found his jeans too and rifled through the pockets for his phone and wallet. 

Slipping outside with a wince at the squeak in the door, Meg shut it gently behind her and walked down the rough concrete walkway barefoot until she rounded the corner. Sitting on the curb, tucking her tangled hair behind an ear, the first thing she did was light a cigarette. Half the parking lot lights were out in this dump, patchwork patterns of light and shadow across the asphalt. A car rolled by on the freeway in front of the motel, but it was mostly quiet out here. A lot different from the constant busyness of the city, always people yelling, music, sirens. Out here, it was just the cicadas to keep her company. 

Meg turned on Sam’s phone, and of course it was password protected. Well, it was worth a try anyway. She picked through his wallet next, leather worn soft. There were a few bills inside, a license from Ohio that actually read ‘Sam Smith.’ Go figure. But he also had a credit card for a Matt Noland, and another one for a Bryan Hoback. Yeah, she thought so. Nothing said Winchester, but she knew well enough it was them. What they were pussy footing around for, that she couldn’t guess. 

Flicking the stub of her cigarette across the parking lot, Meg lit another and curled her toes against the pebbles and grit of the lot as she picked up her own phone. She swiped it on and dialed a number without giving it too much thought. He didn’t pick up though. She wasn’t really sure if she expected him to, it was going on five o’clock and soon enough the sun would be rising. 

Halfway through her cigarette, her phone rang. 

Meg picked up on the second ring. “Hey.”

“Hello.”

She listened to the rusty squeak of a door and the sound of him finding somewhere to settle, the snick of a lighter, the familiar measured inhale – exhale. 

Meg held her phone to her ear with one hand and the cigarette in the vee of her fingers in the other. “Are you smoking over there?”

“Yes. Sorry I didn’t pick up. I had to step outside.”

“That’s all right.”

“Did you find anything useful?”

Meg flicked ash off her cigarette and shrugged to no one, “Not really, fake credit cards. What about you?”

“Nothing pertinent.”

“Is that code for ‘the most interesting thing I found out tonight is how big his dick is and how loud he screams’?”

“It might be.”

Meg laughed quietly to herself, finishing her cigarette and flicking the stub away. She considered one more. She heard Cas lighting another on his end. “Thought you gave up smoking. With everything else.”

“It’s been a stressful few weeks.”

“Yeah.” Meg decided to light one more. “Well look at us, sharing an after-sex cigarette like old times. Shame it’s on other ends of a phone, huh?”

“How are things between you and Ruby?”

Meg almost snorted. Cas’d never really been subtle. “I don’t know. There’s still something between us, I guess, if that counts for anything. You know I’m surprised you’re still with Cain.”

“It has surprised me as well.”

Quietly, she asked, “Are you happy?”

Quietly, slowly, he answered, “Yes. I know it started as a matter of… convenience. A practicality, for what we could do for each other. But it never seemed like the right time to leave, even after everything, and it was slow but … I realized what I could have, what I wanted. Who I could choose to be. And I am happy, just as things are.”

Meg shifted on the hard concrete and focused on the dry heat of smoke down her throat as she let the conversation lapse but stayed on the line listening to him doing the same. Flicking her third stub out across the lot, she scrubbed a hand over her face. She was so goddam tired, but sleep was the last thing she wanted. 

Cas picked up the ball, telling her, “You know, now would be a good time to get out.”

“Yeah.” Meg already knew that. “Yeah, we’ll see what happens.” 

Because there was a huge gap between knowing what to do and figuring out how to do it.


	6. Stand-Off

Sam paced between the foot of his queen bed and the kitchenette counter in the small motel room, arms loose at his side, trying to shake out the tension. “I don’t think we should move forward on this, Dean. Something doesn’t feel right.”

At the table by the front window, Dean scowled at him, hands still stripping and cleaning guns. “I don’t care about your feelings, Samantha, we’ve been on this job too long. We need to make a move.”

Facing his brother, Sam braced both hands on his hips. “No, we don’t. And we shouldn’t have taken this job in the first place.”

Dean clicked the slide into place on his Colt and wiped his hands on a rag. “This isn’t about Abaddon –“

“It kind of is,” Sam interrupted. “Why are we even working for her? She’s gonna screw us over in the end.”

“She had money and she wanted a bad guy brought in. End of story. That’s what we do.”

“She’s a bad guy too!”

The chair scraped dully over linoleum as Dean stood suddenly, a few strides and he was in Sam’s space. “We can’t take ‘em all down at once, Sam, we have to pick our battles.”

Sam took a deep breath and leaned into Dean’s space, “And this shouldn’t be one of them. Cain and Cas aren’t doing anything wrong here. We aren’t even sure that Cas is Jimmy, not a hundred percent.”

“More like ninety-five percent,” Dean rolled his eyes. “And since when isn’t that good enough for you? We’ve taken down bigger guys on less intel for shadier reasons. Come on, Sam!”

Huffing, Sam turned and resumed his pacing. “What about Ruby and Meg? I’m pretty sure they were Lucifer’s, not sure where their loyalty is right now, but do you want to make a move when they’re still wild cards?”

“We’ve been outnumbered before.”

“And one of these days we’re not going to get lucky.”

Dean crossed his arms over his chest defensively and moved further into the kitchenette area to block off Sam’s pacing. “I saw Krushnic ink on Cas. I didn’t get a whole lot of snooping done in their house, of course anything real bad wouldn’t be easy to find, but I know he’s just as guilty as Cain. The body count between the two of these guys is in the triple digits.”

Standing toe to toe with Dean, it amazed him how Dean could still make Sam feel little when Sam looked down on him. “And what’s our body count, Dean?”

“Goddamit, since when do you care?”

“I always have.”

Stepping back, Dean turned and went back to the table, sitting down and stripping the Colt he’d just put back together. He didn’t look up when he said, “I’m going to do my job Sam. Are you gonna back me up?”

Squeezing his hands into fists a few times and wavering, Sam finally sighed and deflated. Lips pursed, not sure what to say, he went to the mini fridge and fished out two beers that were barely colder than room temperature. Sitting down at the table and uncapping them both, he slid one across to Dean. Tapped his foot a few times, restless. Stood and found his Taurus, sitting again to strip and clean it. 

Dean nodded and set down a fine wire brush to take a sip of beer. “We’ll corner them at the shop.”

“Not the house?”

“No, place is huge, and private. I didn’t get a good look around but I don’t like it. Shop’s safer for us. After hours. We’ll stake out and make sure no customers are lingering. You go in Monday?”

“Yeah.”

It was methodical, easy, to sit and clean his gun with a beer by his elbow and his brother across the table from him. 

“Okay. After work, leave and circle back around. Cain usually stays late to count up the previous week’s receipts and Cas is usually there to inventory new stuff they bring in from the weekend. I’ll keep an eye out through the day, watch for the girls.”

Sam nodded and listened, falling in line with his brother’s orders. He loved Dean, overwhelmingly, and he knew Dean had good intentions in most things. But he was also stubborn as a mule and could never admit when he might be wrong. Things were starting to strain between them, and Sam wasn’t sure if they’d been working too close for too long, or if they were growing apart in a way. 

This kind of life never really appealed to Sam like it did to Dean. He had been happier working at a book store and going to college even if he lived in a shitty little shoe box of an apartment. But when their dad had died on the job, Sam couldn’t leave Dean out there to work alone. Sam knew Dean wouldn’t pick up another partner. And he didn’t want to go to his brother’s funeral for a long, long time. That meant he had to keep an eye on Dean until he could convince his brother to hang up the life. 

Dean had always taken care of Sam when they were little, practically raised him – Sam could never turn his back on his brother. Even when his brother was being stupid and brash. 

Bounty hunting – usually on the illegal side of things in their case – used to be something he could do with bravado and conviction. After being in it so long though, lines had started to blur and he was seeing a lot more gray than he used to. Desperate people working with what they had and no good options to choose from. You couldn’t really make the right choice when all the choices were wrong. Sam didn’t like working for a gang who was trying to bring in runners – years gone stale – even if they’d done bad things themselves. It wouldn’t end good for anyone. 

But he wasn’t going to let Dean go it alone. So his choice was already made for him. 

-

It was a Monday exactly like the few Mondays before it had been. There was a gaggle of old ladies who were regulars that came in to check the weekend’s acquisitions. Cas greeted them cheerfully and showed them to exactly the things he knew they would like. Sam spent the day dusting, checking customers out, eating lunch with the cat in the back, and helping Cas sort inventory he hadn’t recorded yet. 

There was an uneasy twinge in the pit of Sam’s stomach, and it wasn’t really the adrenaline he usually got when they were closing in on the case. It was more like guilt. Squirmy, uncomfortable, morally ambiguous guilt. Because Dean was right that Cain and Castiel weren’t really innocents, but in Sam’s opinion there were a whole lot of people who weren’t and not a lot of people who were. There was plenty of things to take into consideration. Their peaceful unobtrusive life here in West Jefferson and how they’d integrated with everyone else. The regulars at the shop, everywhere Castiel and Cain traveled to purchase their stock, there was a hundred fingerprints left around the town on a day-to-day basis like where they went for lunch and where they’d pass their free time. They were people, multi faceted and flawed, just as much as the next person. 

But when the shop closed and Sam waved goodnight, walking around the block and down a few to the meet point he and Dean set, his mind turned to the job at hand, on automatic. This was work, just like all the other people they’d hunted down together the past few years. 

Leaning casually against the Impala and checking something on his phone in the shadow of buildings rising over the narrow alley, Dean was the picture of nonchalance as he looked up and waved Sam over quietly. 

“Normal day?”

“Normal day,” Sam answered, “Didn’t see Ruby or Meg at all; circled around the block a few times, didn’t see their bikes.”

“Cain and Cas were both at the shop today?”

“Yeah. They’ll be there a while after closing. We didn’t get through half the stuff to inventory, it was a busy traffic day.”

“Good.”

Wordlessly, they moved together. The sky was lit with orange and red, the sun would set quick and twilight would settle in soon. Should be dark by the time they finished the job. Technically, they could bring Cain and Cas in alive, but Sam doubted it would happen like that. Dean popped the back of the car, surreptitiously looking around the alley as he pulled up the fake trunk liner. The two of them checked their guns and tucked them under clothes with the safety on. Sam had a knife in his boot and handcuffs in his pocket. Dean would be equipped the same. 

Locking everything up, they made their way roundabout back to the shop. 

The horizon line was still smudged with red hues but the sky was inky blue. Crouching in the woods behind the shop, they waited and watched for pedestrians and traffic to dissipate, the lights still lit inside the shop. The back door was propped open with a brick, as usual, and the cat was sitting in front of it licking a paw. 

Dean tapped his shoulder and motioned to the side. They fanned apart to scope around the sides and Sam took a deep breath, ready for his part. Sneaking around to the front, crouched low under the display windows, he inched to the front door. Locked, closed sign flipped. Picking the lock, Sam eased the door open slow enough to slip in without tripping the bell above it and shut it silently behind himself, locking it again. 

Half the lights were turned off in the store, a swathe of brightness spilling out from the hallway to the back when Sam eased towards the register that had a line of sight to it. He couldn’t see or hear anyone in the shop. Breathing slow and shallow, taking out his gun and flicking off the safety, Sam swept through the first unit of the shop checking down high shelved aisles and behind the register. Dean would be coming in through the back to meet in the middle. Sam quietly made his way towards the second unit to sweep there. 

He had just rounded the shelf of dishware when he saw Meg leaning against the door frame to the next unit over. Lifting his gun reflexively, Sam froze with his sight trained on her. 

Smirking, Meg tossed her loose hair over a shoulder, still slouched. “Fancy meeting you here, Jolly Green.”

Sam didn’t hear anyone behind him but the blow to the back of his head was hard and took him to his knees. Gun still clutched in his hand, Sam rolled with it and turned to his back to kick out. Ruby jumped back, her own gun pointed at him, and as Sam pushed up to his knees Meg was behind him with a rough hand in his hair. “I suggest you let us take this win.”

Meg’s hand was firm, the muzzle of her gun pressed to the side of his head. In front of him, Ruby gestured with her weapon and whispered, “Put it down.”

Slowly lowering his own gun to the floor, one hand held up, awkwardly lilting to the side with Meg still holding him, Sam set it down and slid it a foot towards Ruby. She stepped forward and crouched to pick it up quickly, tucking it in her jeans before turning her back to him. The end of the row of shelves was a few steps down, and Ruby peered cautiously around the corner. Sam shifted on his knees, holding both his hands up still. 

The light was patchy and dim, the shop almost closed down. Some of the lights were left on after closing, throughout the night. It was enough to make out shapes and movement, to see details when someone stood directly below the cone of light from a ceiling bulb. The rough ancient floor boards creaked under any pressure, but the shop was silent. Ruby and Meg staid where they were, having set the perfect ambush and probably knowing where Cain and Castiel were. Sam couldn’t begrudge them, he wasn’t interested in seeing the job through anyway. He could only hope Dean didn’t do something stupid. 

Turning around, Ruby pressed one finger to her lips in the universal ‘shh’ gesture. Sam waited. He was fairly confident that neither of them would actually kill him. This sort of situation wasn’t new, and Sam knew to keep his calm and wait it out. 

There was a loud thud in the back of the shop, towards the hall to the employee only section. A gun went off, deafening loud indoors and Sam flinched. Meg tightened her hold on him reflexively and Ruby plastered her back to the shelf. There were the sounds of a scuffle, grunting, heavy breathing, something slamming and shoes noisy on the wood floor. Items were toppled to drop noisily on the floor, sounded like they were some of the books kept near the back hallway. 

It went silent again. Sam’s heartbeat was elevated but he kept his breathing calm. 

Ruby peered around the corner of shelves again, towards the counter in the middle of the shop where there was a more open area. Her posture was stiff and wary. Sam heard someone moving fast - the foot steps sounded like Dean - and there was the thud of someone rolling or slamming into something heavy. Another gunshot and the tinkling burst of broken glass. 

Castiel’s gruff voice barked in pure outrage, “Dammit Dean, that was a depression era Tiffany vase, do you have any idea how much that’s worth!”

There was the bang of another shot that left Sam’s ears ringing. “Oh and you shooting the shelf is any better?!”

“It’s a credenza!”

Sam listened for where they were in the shop and mentally pulled up a map of the layout. The two of them were on the other side of the counter and to the right, away from the back hall. If Cas was near the vases, then Dean was probably near the quilts, and…..

Sam rolled his eyes and gave away his – and Ruby and Meg’s – position. “It’s a credenza, Dean!”

Ruby whipped around and shot a glare at him. Meg let go of his hair to slap him upside the head before grabbing him by the back of the jacket. Stepping out from the shelves with her gun held in front of her, Ruby had it pointed towards the quilts section. Yep. 

Meg kneed him in the middle of the back and half dragged Sam forward with a gun still at his head, and Sam awkwardly knee-walked to the end of the row and out into the open. As soon as Meg was in the open middle of the shop with her gun to Sam’s head, Dean popped up from behind the quilt stacked credenza with his gun trained on Meg. 

“You get your fucking gun off my brother!”

Crunching over broken glass, Cas popped out from a crouch below a table of vases with his gun held up aimed towards Dean. 

“You’re outnumbered. Put it down,” he commanded. 

Ruby and Cas had guns on Dean, Meg had a gun on Sam, and Dean still stood there defiant and stone still as he glared between the two groups flanking him on the side and front. 

Cas asked, “Who sent you?”

“It was Abaddon, she put out a bounty for Cain, dead or alive,” Sam answered. 

“Goddamit Sam!”

Ruby sniggered and Dean trained his rage pout on Sam now. From the other side opposite Cas, coming out of the well-lit back hallway and cast in shadows, Cain silently stalked up behind Dean to within a foot of him and racked a shotgun noisily, holding it level with his head. 

“Put the gun down, boy.”

Sam could see Dean flinch, every muscle go tense. Before it could get too out of hand, Sam said, “Dean, just give it up.”

His arm loosened at least, bending at the elbow and pulling his gun up so it wasn’t trained on Meg. 

Cain, the picture of calm and in control, asked, “How much was the bounty for?”

Dean glanced to Sam and Sam shrugged back. Lowering his gun to his side, Dean turned just his head to glance back at Cain, “It was for a half mil.”

Sam was at least impressed that Dean was being honest, and not so sarcastic to just get himself shot. 

Cain’s posture relaxed slightly. “We can give you four hundred thousand, that’s two hundred each, you can take it and walk.”

“What?” Dean and Sam both asked together.

Sam glanced between Cain and Cas, and Cas was as placid as usual but he’d lowered his weapon, white button-down shirt stiff and tie askew. 

Cain continued, “It’s less than you contracted with Abaddon, but you won’t have the trouble of taking me back. Cut all ties with her, with all of Lucifer’s gang, and swear secrecy, we’ll pay and you can call the job done.”

Slowly, Dean crouched and set his gun on the floor. Sam exhaled a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding. Dean turned around to face Cain and Sam couldn’t quite see his expressions, but Cain lowered his shotgun. Meg let go of Sam’s hair, and he stood hesitantly. 

Dean asked, “Why would you do that?”

“We just want to live in peace,” was Cain’s answer.

-

There was an owl somewhere out there, hooting, close enough that Sam could even hear its wings in flight. It was quiet up here, isolated, acres of land stretching out to forests and farm fields and not a single other dwelling in sight. It kind of creeped Sam out. The Impala gleamed darkly in the moonlight, twilight having settled to night, but the porch light above them was a soft yellow. The wicker rocking chairs squeaked anytime one of them moved. 

Cas sat, quietly, his Glock tucked out of sight. Dean and Sam had left their guns in the car. In their hands, now, were three glasses of ice tea. It was a muggy late summer night, but Sam balanced his glass on his knee, untouched. 

Dean was wolfing down a scone. 

There were scones. What was his life anymore? A small wicker table between the porch furniture held a half empty pitcher of ice tea and a plate of scones. Dean’s shirt was littered with crumbs. 

He still had food in his mouth when he garbled out, “Thish ish delishus, you make thish Cash?”

Cas squinted at him, one eyebrow lifted, took a sip of his tea before answering, “No, Cain did.”

If Cas didn’t kill Dean, Sam just might. He went for another scone. Sam’s jaw hurt from tensing it so much. He was going to get an earache soon. Apparently, Dean could be mollified with buttered scones. 

And cash, of course. 

Sam couldn’t believe that not twelve hours earlier he was arguing with his brother about the morality of taking out a hit on someone who they weren’t crystal clear about, and now, now he was making eyes at Cas and reaching for another scone. Dean was hopeless.

Ruby and Meg had taken off somewhere else, Sam wasn’t too sure, but Cas had waved them off and it was only Sam and Dean sitting awkwardly on the porch with Cas while Cain was, presumably, counting payment. This was… nothing like this had ever happened on a job before. It wasn’t like Sam really wanted to capture, or kill, Cain. But they’d completely had the upper hand on Sam and Dean, yet were willing to bribe their favor. For what? And Cain had left Cas out here with them - sure Sam and Dean left their weapons in the car, but now they had the numbers. Momentarily. Sometimes, a single moment was all you needed. 

Sam couldn’t figure it out and he may have just short circuited his brain running in circles. The owl started up again. 

Letting his eyes roam, keeping Cas in his peripheral, Sam studied his surroundings. Dean hadn’t said much to him about what he saw in the house the night he was there, mostly just about Cain and Cas. But it was completely not what Sam expected. There were cheerful yellow clay pots holding blooming flowers lining the porch edge, lace curtains in the windows and through them Sam could get a glimpse of neat clutter that looked a lot like the shop, books and vases everywhere. 

The screen door didn’t have much of a squeak when it opened, but Cain’s heavy boots on the porch floor did. Large olive-toned canvas duffel bag over one shoulder, he stared at them. No one really seemed to have precedent on what to say. Dean brushed crumbs off his lap and stood, looking too cheerful. Sam knew that sometimes he ramped up the charm in tense situations to try to diffuse things, but he genuinely looked happy with the current outcome. 

For the life of him, Sam couldn’t figure out Cain and Cas’ deal either. They could of just gotten rid of Sam and Dean, or sent them away with a stern warning. But here was Cain, passing over a heavy duffel and Sam was the one standing closest so he reached out and accepted it. 

“Uh. Thanks?”

“Consider your job done. I don’t even want you in contact with Abaddon to tell her the job fell through.”

Dean stepped up next to Sam, shoulder to shoulder, and took the duffel from him. Unzipping not even half way and peeking inside, it was indeed full of money, but they could count that later. Dean nodded and zipped it back up, beaming a smile at Cain. 

“No worries there, she gave me the major heebs.”

Sam caught Cas rolling his eyes as he stood, arranging glasses and plates back on the tray. “It was a pleasure doing business with you, I suppose.”

Sam definitely caught Dean winking at Cas. Tugging at the hem of his jacket, shifting one foot to the other, Sam gripped the strap of the duffel and inched towards the steps. “Right. So. That’s it then. Right?”

Cain crossed his hands over his chest and shrugged. “We still need the help around the shop, and you and your brother did good work. Until you tried to kill us.”

Dean laughed and lifted his hands in a ‘what’ll you do’ gesture, “Well technically, it was just you we were after.”

“Of course,” Cain answered.

“Oh, and those scones, man, I need the recipe.” Dean put on his best charming smile.

Cas stepped around Dean to position himself next to Cain, tray of scones and tea in his hand, and Sam didn’t miss the arm that slid around his waist. Cas squinted at the two of them. “You still have your jobs at the shop, if you want them.”

Sam was completely at a loss for words, finally having situated himself at the steps and ready to flee. Dean, well Dean hadn’t moved very far and wasn’t very subtle. 

“Really? It’s uh, it is kind of nice here.” Dean was definitely considering it.

Cas nodded at him once, “Of course, I will take payment for the Tiffany vase out of your next few paychecks.”

-

“Oh come on, don’t make that bitch face at me.”

Dean pulled the driver’s side door shut behind him loudly and fit the keys into the ignition.

Sam buckled his seatbelt and shook his head, “I swear, Dean, sometimes…”

“Sometimes nothing.”

“You were so geared up for a fight this morning –“

“Look, it’s not about whether or not they deserve it, Sam, it’s the job. Ok. It’s just, it’s what we do. But screw Abaddon, she gave me the creeps, and we got paid in the end anyway.”

“This isn’t about the money.”

“Of course it is.”

“No. You like them, don’t you? Cas. And Cain?”

The car was idling in the driveway, the night dark around them, but Sam could still see two figures on the porch. Of course Dean liked them. And of course in Dean’s own weird way, that only meant that he should try harder to either get them out of his life, or impress them. 

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. “Look, we can call the job done, everyone’s in one piece, hell, no one even got shot. What else do you want Sam?”

Maybe he didn’t really get his brother. Sam doubted even Dean understood Dean. The offer to keep their jobs at the antique shop was, weirdly enough, on the table. And Sam was considering it. He liked West Jefferson, it was a small friendly town and there was something about the mountains around them that made him feel … content. Good.

Sam wondered if Ruby and Meg were going to stick around too. 

Dean was watching him, one hand on the steering wheel, ready to go but waiting. 

Smiling, Sam shrugged one shoulder. “I have always wanted a dog.”


	7. Epilogue

Castiel was awakened by soft snoring and the feel of a warm body curling around him. Blinking against the bright light of early morning, he shifted onto his side to see Dean drooling against his pillow. The window was closed against the early autumn chill and a few robin’s-egg blue sheets were twisted up between the two of them. There was a furrow in his forehead and his eyes moved rapidly behind shut lids as he snored. 

Castiel smacked his arm. 

Dean snorted and blinked, turning his face into the pillow and burrowing there with a moan. 

“You were snoring. And it’s time to get up.”

Muffled around the pillow, Dean answered, “It’s Wednesday, it’s sleep-in day.”

“No, it’s weed the garden and paint the porch day.”

A strong arm curled around Castiel’s waist and tugged him closer, Dean face still somehow in the pillow as he squirmed up against Castiel and rubbed his erection between them. Shifting down the bed a scooch, Castiel nestled against the warm smooth skin of Dean’s chest and situated his cock to rub alongside Dean’s. They might need to wake up soon, but they could dally in bed for a little while. 

The gold band of the ring on Castiel’s left hand was bright against Dean’s tan skin. Dean’s fingers were bare. Cain had suggested in secret that they find a ring for him as well, and Castiel was waiting for something special, something to pass through the shop. It had been almost three years since Dean moved in with them. Castiel was almost surprised that Dean had returned to the shop for work after the hit on Cain had gone sideways. But most things Dean did surprised Castiel, and he was learning not to be surprised by that. 

Fingers curled over his side and Dean slid his hand around to stroke up Castiel’s spine, a sure way to have him shiver and arch against Dean. Finally peeling his face off the pillow, Dean scooted to slot a thigh between Castiel’s legs and line them up better, peppering kisses on his forehead and down his nose. This arrangement was much better, the current position as well sleeping in the same bed. It was convenient for morning lingerings, and morning sex. Castiel’s favorite. 

Although Dean hadn’t wasted any time after matters were resolved years ago returning to their bed - enthusiastically, and at least half the nights of the week - it wasn’t until Sam left for an undefined time that Dean gave up and moved in with them. It took a little while to figure out how they all fit together without any lies or secrecy between them, but they were in a good place now. Sam had been gone for about a month that first time, impulsively buying a bike and taking off cross country with Ruby and Meg - who had come back to West Jefferson not quite two months after the stand off. 

Then Sam, Ruby, and Meg had settled in West Jefferson, too. 

Nails clacked on the hardwood floor of the hallway. Dean groaned ‘no no noooo’ as a heavy weight pounced on the bed with a ‘woof’ and they were attacked with a slobbering tongue and wagging tail. 

“Goddamit Bones, get off the bed!”

Castiel retreated to his side of the bed and watched Dean struggling to push the golden retriever off, which was more wrestling and hugging in his opinion. The wide bed was actually two queens pushed together, and although they lay a thick foam pad over top that fit both sides, there was a ridge in the middle. But not even a king could comfortably fit the three of them. There was plenty of room for Dean to roll around with Bones, who was staying with them while Sam was on what had turned into an annual week long ride with Ruby and Meg. 

There was a sharp whistle from the door and Bones jumped off the bed immediately, leaving a tousled Dean and an amused Castiel in the mess of sheets. Cain had his arms folded over his chest, watching from the doorway. 

“You two are late to rise.”

Dean hid in the pillows again. “It’s Wednesday.”

Cain raised an eyebrow. “There’s plenty of work to be done around here.”

Castiel stretched along the bed, catching his toes in the sheet to pull it down, taking himself in hand and stroking lazily as he watched Cain watching him. “That’s what I told Dean.”

Whistling sharply again, Cain motioned Bones out of the room, closing the door on him with a ‘stay’ command. Dean rolled onto his back now, too, sheets tangled around his knees and cock bobbing up hard as he watched Cain undress. Long sleeve shirt, trousers, draped over the chair by the dresser before Cain stalked over and crawled onto the bed on the other side of Dean, trapping Dean between them. 

Castiel let himself go to stroke a hand over the firm muscle of Dean’s thigh and up to his hip, scratching lightly through the coarse hair around his cock without taking hold of it. Cain hovered by them, mostly soft, skin ruddy and he may already have been out working through the sunrise. Dean reached up to curl a hand around his back and pull him down, Cain only dipping his head to give a close mouthed kiss to Dean, then stretching over to give one to Castiel as well. 

Even through the closed bedroom door the smell of biscuits and coffee in their house was familiar and comforting, sleep sweat a sharper scent over that and the herbal notes of Cain’s shampoo sweeter. Castiel basked in the simple pleasure of it, hand roaming Dean’s body as Cain lay down on his side and reached across to place a hand on Castiel’s chest. Dean squirmed between them. Rolled onto his side to work a hand between him and Cain to stroke Cain to hardness as Dean buried his face in Cain’s neck. 

Castiel curled against Dean’s back, resting his forehead in the middle of broad shoulders and loosely holding Dean’s cock against his belly to caress the length with opened palm. Dean rocked his hips back, rubbing against Castiel. Slotting his erection in the crease of Dean’s ass, Castiel aligned himself and slowly rolled his hips into the gentle friction. Cain’s calloused hand passed over Dean’s shoulder and brushed Castiel’s, fingertips tracing down his arm and up Dean’s side then back again. 

The bed squeaked under them and the dog outside the door finally gave one last whine before nails clacked down the hallway and the stairs creaked. The house was quiet again but for the gentle whisper of skin on skin, mouths on one another, the rustle of sheets. 

Cain’s hand settled under Castiel’s arm pressed to Dean’s hip. “Roll over.”

With a grunt, Dean shifted and Castiel leaned away as they re-situated so that Dean could face him. The bed dipped as Cain stretched across the other side to the night stand. Dean watched over his shoulder, and Castiel distracted him with nips along down his neck and up the curve of his shoulders. Fingers twisted in his hair as Dean rocked against him, breath picking up, body moving between he and Cain, uncertain where to settle. 

“Here.”

Castiel lifted Dean’s leg at the back of the thigh and pulled it up over his own hip, pulling Dean flush and exposing him to Cain. Blue eyes watched Castiel, a smile curved under thick beard. “Thank you.”

Breath coming short, Dean whined and pulled Castiel’s face down against his chest again. Humming over smooth skin, back arched away a little so he could line his hips up to take both of them in hand, Dean’s leg was a heavy weight over his hip, solid and bent to squeeze against Castiel as Cain fingered him open. Legs tangled, cocks hard and smooth, again squeezed tight in one fist, Castiel plucked a nipple between his teeth and sucked as Dean’s body jerked and went taut before settling lax. 

“There you go,” Cain rumbled behind him, hand soothing over his side. 

Dean pushed one arm under Castiel’s head to curve up around his shoulders while the other hand was busy gripping his hair tight. Tight enough his scalp tingled pleasantly as the last sleepiness of morning dissipated with the build of arousal. Rutting against Dean, flat tongued swipes over his chest and nip-sucks to the buds of his nipples, Castiel worked faster with the tension drawing tighter in his gut. 

The hand in hair pulled back. “C’mere,” Dean’s voice was hoarse as he guided Castiel up higher. Kissing shallowly against sour morning breath, Dean sucked on his lip and gasped as Cain slotted up snug behind him and Castiel held on to both their cocks still while Dean was fucked. Cain’s hand slid over Dean’s hips and bumped knuckles against Castiel, both of them squeezing and pulling and stretching Dean between them as his glassy green eyes rolled back, mouth open and body quivering. 

Panting, Castiel worked his hand faster over the two of them, slicking with pre-come and sweat. Dean reached down to grab his wrist, breathing heavy in the crook of his neck, and stilled him. Castiel slowed and watched Cain’s frenetic movements, hips pushed in close to Dean and rolling, eyes shut as his jaw clenched. Pushing against Dean’s hips, Cain tipped him forward and slid his leg up higher, snapping in fast and hard with a loud smack of skin. Dean gasped and squeezed their erections together, teeth sinking into the skin of Castiel’s shoulder, body pushing back to meet Cain. 

Shoving hard and stilling, Cain blinked his eyes open and sucked in a shuddering breath, long wavy hair frizzed into a corona around his face. Humming with a deep low rumble, he loosened his hold on Dean and eased back. Castiel jerked his hips forward a few times into Dean’s hand, moving his free arm over Dean’s hip to squeeze the plump muscle of his ass and trail lower, feeling the wet stretch of his hole around Cain as they stayed joined a moment. 

Fingers tracing gentle circles as Cain withdrew, Castiel kissed the top of Dean’s head and his lips when Dean pulled back. “What would you like?”

Dean pushed him onto his back and followed to straddle his waist. Castiel barely had his hands on Dean’s waist then Dean was lining up and sinking down, so wet and tight around him. Clutched in the silk heat, Castiel squeezed Dean’s waist and pushed up off the bed. Planting his feet firm, legs bent, he thrust up to meet Dean as they moved together. 

Cain rolled over close to them and kissed Castiel’s arm, up to his shoulder and the shell of his ear, breathing warm against him. Turning in to the contact, Castiel kissed distractedly and bumped their noses together as he rolled his hips up to grind into Dean. Cain stroked down his chest and tensed belly, reaching to wrap his hand around Dean’s bouncing cock. Dean was panting on top of him, uncoordinated and eager. 

Castiel loved going second. Dean was sloppy with Cain’s release, all slick-thick deep inside him, it squelched obscenely and dripped down messy. There was something intimate in feeling the evidence of Cain here, in sharing this together. 

Breathing labored, pushing hard and holding tight to Dean’s waist, Castiel arched his neck back on the pillow to watch as Dean’s motions stuttered, his hands wrapped around Castiel’s wrists as Cain squeezed his cock. His beautiful plush mouth twisted in pleasure as he stilled, all taut muscle rippling as Castiel fucked up into him rough and Dean came breathless, splashing hot over Castiel’s belly and chest. The rippling muscle around his cock, rhythmic and tight and so slick, had his orgasm blazing through him as he bowed off the bed, Cain’s mouth sucking bruises into his neck. 

Dean’s weight settled heavily on his lap as Castiel sagged back into the mattress, hands slipping down to rest on Dean’s thighs. Cain cupped Dean’s balls and squeezed, still playing with him as Dean shivered and his cock dripped. Castiel sighed and pet along Dean’s thigh, reaching with the hand nearest Cain to rub over his stomach. 

With a grunt, Dean pulled off and flopped down next to Castiel boxing him in with Cain on the other side. It was hot and sticky and perfect. Tipping over to face Cain, Castiel rubbed a cheek against the soft beard and pecked kisses across his face. “Good morning.”

“Almost noon,” Cain retorted. 

“It is not,” Dean grumbled behind him. 

A sweaty chest and stomach pressed along Castiel’s back, an arm draping over his waist. Cain and Dean both had calloused hands, large and warm. But Cain tended to grip, to settle on his body and hold, whereas Dean skimmed and rubbed restless patterns. It was nice. 

“The biscuits are going to burn by the time you get up,” Cain mumbled against his mouth.

Castiel curled his arms in close to his chest, tucked between them. “Not if you’ve turned the oven off before you came up.”

Cain hummed. 

Soft lips kissed the nape of his neck and Castiel’s skin tingled. Dean groused, “It’s Wednesday, aren’t we gonna have bacon and eggs?”

“I’ll make that after coffee and biscuits,” Castiel reassured him. 

Wrapped up around each other, blankets kicked off the bed, heartbeats wild and breath warm, none of them moved. 

-

Damp hair curled against the back of his neck as Castiel made his way to the kitchen from the shower. Jeans that were a little too long for him dragged across the wood floors, and he figured he must have accidentally picked Dean’s out of the dresser instead of his own. Dressed for work around the house in a faded gray t-shirt already spattered with old paint and riddled with holes along the hem, Castiel decided to have his biscuit and coffee before starting eggs and bacon, since Dean was still in the shower. 

And singing horribly off key so loud that it could be heard in the kitchen. 

Cain rolled his eyes behind the newspaper he was reading. In a patch of sun from the open back door, Bones was napping. 

Settling down at the table with a hot buttered biscuit and sweetened coffee, Castiel ignored the paper in favor of staring out the window at the birds flocking to the feeder that Cain had made earlier that spring. 

After a half cup of coffee that managed to rouse him into something approaching cheerful, Castiel asked, “We have all the supplies for the porch, right?”

Cain nodded, folding his paper to set down and grabbing his own coffee off the table. “We should be able to finish scraping and start the primer today. I got a two-hour dry paint so we can do the first coat if we get it primed before three.”

Squinting at the clock above the far wall, Castiel noted, “It’s almost noon.”

“Someone decided to be a distraction this morning.”

“We can scrape and prime today, and paint next week.”

Cain hummed and finished his coffee, picking up another section of paper to start. Dean bounced down the stairs noisily, and it sounded like he managed to hit every creaky spot of the house. Strutting into the kitchen in jeans and a tee, he made his way to the coffee pot first and foremost. 

Turning from the counter with mug cradled in his hand, Castiel was finishing his own cup and ready to start eggs when the rumble of motorcycles made themselves known at the end of the gravel drive. Quickly growing loud enough to deafen, Dean abandoned his mug on the counter in favor of hurrying outside, still bare foot. Bones was barking almost loud enough to drown out the bikes, hopping around excitedly and enthusiastically bumping into Dean racing him out the door. 

Castiel followed, and Cain stayed at the table with his paper. 

Outside, Dean was standing at the bottom of the porch steps with his hands on his hips as Ruby, Meg, and Sam parked their bikes, setting helmets on the seats and making their way across the lawn. Castiel remained on the porch, and Dean met his brother halfway across the lawn. The elder Winchester flicked Sam’s long braided hair over his shoulder before pulling him in for a tight hug. Meg rolled her eyes as she walked past and Ruby lingered in between. Sam greeted his brother first, but then dropped to one knee so Bones could slobber all over him. 

Castiel smiled at his friend as she walked up the porch steps, hair cut short and dyed blond now, red leather jacket creaking as she punched him lightly on the shoulder. “Hey Clarence.”

“Hello, Meg. Good ride?”

She glanced back at Sam and Ruby, laughing at something Dean said as they came back to the porch. There was something softer in the set of her face these days, something looser and easier in how she held herself. Castiel figured he had changed quite a lot too; it had been so gradual he hadn’t notice it in himself years ago. He could see it in them, though, recognized at something of a distance when he could peer back at where they’d been and wonder if he really was remembering it correctly. 

Meg shrugged, “Yeah, it was pretty good.”

Ruby and Sam were in earshot now, and Castiel addressed them all when he said, “Come inside, I was just getting breakfast started.”

“Coffee?” Sam chimed in.

“I’ll put on another pot,” Castiel answered as he turned back inside. 

There was at least one mug left of what was already made, so he set that aside before emptying the grinds and starting more. The kitchen was roomy enough for three people, but six was a crowd. Cain nodded his ‘hellos’ and scooted closer to the wall as Dean brought in another three wooden chairs from the dining room, crowding them into the small kitchen. Ruby sat next to Cain and propped her feet on the table until he glared at her. Dean and Sam settled opposite them, hunching over Sam’s phone as he scrolled through photos of their trip. Meg snagged the last cup of coffee, black, after lifting herself up to sit on the counter right next to Castiel. 

Leaning over, he accepted a kiss, bittered by coffee but warm, before brushing past her to the fridge. 

“So where did you guys end up?” Dean asked. 

Sam pointed out more photos on his phone, “We went East and took Route Twelve down the outer banks.”

Dean nodded approvingly, “Nice, did you follow the coast down to South Carolina?”

Swinging her legs noisily against the cabinets, Meg scrunched up her nose, “Beaches aren’t really my thing.”

Ruby made a face at her, “Shut up, you had a good time.”

Folding his newspaper to set aside, Cain frowned into his empty mug, “Are there nudist beaches out there?”

Dean barked a laugh while Sam answered, “No.”

Pulling down a mixing bowl, Castiel set two skillets on the stove and warmed them with oil. Cracking a whole dozen eggs, when one pan was hot he set the bacon in and finished whisking the eggs. Meg slurped down the rest of her coffee before hopping off the counter and getting more mugs from the cupboard, bumping hips with him, and then doling out coffee to everyone else in the kitchen. There were still warm biscuits in the oven, which Castiel put in a towel lined dish before setting at the table. Scrambling the eggs and flipping bacon, he listened to conversation over his shoulder as Ruby, Sam, and Meg recounted the highlights of their short trip in no particular order. Bones was over excited and underfoot for a while with his enthusiastically wagging tail, but he eventually settled under the table at Sam’s feet, who happily pet the head resting on his lap. 

Turning off the stove and plating cooked eggs and crisp bacon, Castiel heard Dean behind him before a warm hand settled at the small of his back. Dean reached around to steal a piece of bacon. 

“I was just about to serve those.”

“Let me help.”

Dean crunched his piece loudly, then balanced several plates to take to the table. It was easiest for as few people as possible to move around the kitchen, or they’d only run in to each other. As it was, Sam and Meg pushed their chairs back from the table and balanced their breakfasts on their laps, so they weren’t knocking knees and elbows. 

Cain sipped his coffee and considered their house guests. “With extra hands, we could probably finish painting the porch today.”

Ruby groaned and rolled her eyes, “We have plenty of our own work to do at home.”

“You live in an apartment,” Cain chided.

Sam beamed and swallowed a large mouthful, “I’d be happy to help.”

Castiel twisted around and stretched to set his empty plate on the counter. “Thank you, Sam. Meg?”

Mumbling around a mouthful, she answered, “Sure, why not.”

Ruby glowered at the two of them. 

Settling back in his chair with the rest of his coffee, pot sitting empty on the counter, Castiel listened to the rambling conversation of the group. Two ex-hit men, two ex-drug dealers, two ex-bounty hunters, all having a cordial breakfast together in his kitchen. 

Like most things in his life, nearly all the contents of the kitchen were gently used. His lifelong friends, and his partners for life. The shininess of new connections and the breathless excitement of first love had been sanded down by time to have worn edges and familiar pockmarks of imperfections. Even the curtains from the second-hand store, the coffee pot from a garage sale, the furniture from estate sales, the dog Sam rescued from a shelter - it was all in a way secondhand. 

They had all loved and lost, fought hard for a place in the world, weathered the passage of time. And like an antique vase - unstamped by any maker, cracked and glued back together - there might not be much resale value, but to the right customer, it was priceless.


End file.
